


The Bitter and the Herb

by irreplaceable_ecstacy



Series: Of Lands & Seas [1]
Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternative Universe - Mermaids, F/F, Lots of Angst, Pirates, Useless Lesbians, asian folklore, i don't know how to tag, lots of fluff, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreplaceable_ecstacy/pseuds/irreplaceable_ecstacy
Summary: 治愈 (zhiyu, cure in Mandarin), is the most powerful potion to ever exist on Earth, created by Asia's most skillful apothecaries. No one knows of its whereabouts but people still searched. Merchants, explorers, bandits, pirates, to no avail. Some wish to sell it for the highest price in the markets, some wish to use it for their own purposes and some wish to have fame. However, no matter how long and hard they searched, it was never found.Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, one the world's only female pirate captains, seeks this potion for her goddaughter. After many failed voyages, she finally retrieves the knowledge she needs to find the potion with the help of her crew's scholar, Mary Bolkonkaya. They discover what others failed to find, the answer that will lead them to the potion. Something no one one had.
Relationships: Marya "Mary" Nikolaevna Bolkonskaya/Sofia "Sonya" Alexandrovna Rostova, Marya Dmitryevna Akhrosimova/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Series: Of Lands & Seas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923778
Comments: 39
Kudos: 57





	1. Prologue

The sound of violent coughing filled the room, each one harsher than the previous one. Sobs wracked through the frail girl’s body as she turned away to cough, her fretting cousin by her bedside with a stack of handkerchiefs in hand. Natasha reached a hand out to Sonya who responded immediately with a handkerchief. Discarding the bloodied one in hand, Natasha used the fresher one to wipe her stained lips and hands then the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Tuberculosis. How she had caught it, she did not know nor did she know what she did to deserve such a miserable fate. The doctors had no proper cure but they provided medication in hopes that it would tame the worsening of the disease. It was only recently that Natasha had become bedridden. The disease had costed her strength and her happiness, and Sonya’s own freedom for the girl was always beside Natasha in aid. Natasha had lost the light in her eyes, felt guilty for stealing away her dear cousin’s freedom for she was under her care day and night. She could barely even muster the strength to get out of bed and walk around the house to tend to herself. No, everything she was incapable of doing, Sonya did for her. No one deserved to suffer because of her own suffering but no matter how she pleaded, no one listened to her.

And her godmother. Natasha’s condition taxed on the woman. The weaker Natasha became, it reflected on Marya’s wellbeing. Countless of sleepless nights, drastic increases of looting for money to cover Natasha’s medical fees and the heavy feeling of dread that pooled in her stomach that threatened to drag her into misery. There was nothing Marya could do, not while the 治愈 was an impossibility. All she could do for now is supply Natasha with stories of her voyages, fill her with hope that recovery was possible but that seemed to have little effect anymore.

She stood at the doorway of the bedroom, watching as Sonya comforted her cousin with soothing words and a warm embrace. Natasha clung onto Sonya as though she were clinging onto her life, and Marya felt her heart clench as Natasha sobbed into Sonya’s shoulder. She could not hear their conversation but the tearful exchange was painful enough to watch. Sonya cried but fought her best to keep the sadness out of her voice, even forcing the best smile that she could wear as tears stung her eyes.

“You’ll make it… Have hope, Natasha. Have hope in yourself. Pray to God and he will hear you,” Sonya whispered and Natasha only nodded.

Marya felt a tap on her shoulder which snapped her out of her trance. Behind her stood the very timid Mary Bolkonskaya, the scholar of her little pirate crew, clutching a quill to her chest with an optimistic glint in her eyes. Marya did not require any questions to know what Mary wanted to tell her, instead, they made their way to Mary’s study in a haste. Marya closed the door behind her and Mary discarded the quill to rearrange the scattered journals and books on her desk. Papers were strewn across the floor, encyclopedias weighing some stacks down so that the wind did not blow them away. The study consisted of a year’s worth of research and writing that could make up a novel. However, all Mary required was a single journal and a map out of the clutter. Marya took her place beside Mary, looming over her shoulder to watch the timid girl work her way through the map with a compass and metal divider.

“According to this journal, we have a few coordinates that lead to the 治愈... But all these coordinates are rather close to each other. They’re about a day’s voyage from one another. . . But there is only one entrance to the potion. A whirlpool!” Mary explained, glancing in between Marya and the map.

“How do we identify the right entrance if there are false ones?” Marya inquired, studying the map quietly before jotting some things down in her own journal.

“Well um” – Mary fumbled with the aged journal among her papers – “It’s a little strange.”

“Everything about the world is strange. Just tell me,” Marya interrupted her, raising a brow expectantly.

“We’re going to have to find ourselves a mermaid,” Mary mumbled as she showed Marya a page from the journal. “They have the ability to connect with the ocean. Not sure what that means but I guess they have senses that we, humans, don’t possess.”

“It makes perfect sense.” Marya skimmed through the page then placed it aside. “This is enough for us to set off.”

Mary let out a squeak. “So soon?”

“If we don’t leave any sooner, I might lose a goddaughter. Pack up. This voyage will be our longest one yet,” Marya instructed, leaving no room for questions.

And with that, the woman left the room to see her goddaughters. She had to go. There was little time to waste. The number of days that Natasha had left to live, that was her deadline. Every second that ticked away, that was Natasha’s own life spending away. Her walking soon turned into jogging, hurrying herself to Natasha’s chambers bearing the news of her departure to sail. She knocked on the door but entered without the requirement of a response. Upon entering, Natasha lifted her head from Sonya’s shoulder to greet her godmother and she managed a small smile.

At the door, Mary stood there, waving a hand to catch Sonya’s attention who took this as her cue to leave. She exchanged a brief nod with Marya then scurried out of the room to join Mary outside, closing the door once she exited. Marya settled herself the chair Sonya had left vacant and she pursed her lips into a tight line. The fear of leaving her to Sonya’s individual care with the assistance of doctors, it was overwhelming. Some part of her doubted that the journey would be any good but another part of her felt determined to find this potion. It existed. Mary found it after months of research and now all they needed to do was pursue it with the pieces of knowledge many have failed to obtained. God bless Mary for her hard work. Natasha waited patiently for her godmother to say something. With the way her lips tightened up, Natasha could tell that it was a difficult task for Marya to say what she came with. Taking Marya’s hands, she gave them a gentle squeeze.

“You have to go… Don’t you?” she asked softly.

“I’m afraid so. I’m doing this for you. I hope you know that,” Marya murmured as she pressed a gentle kiss to Natasha’s knuckles.

“I know and I’ve never been more grateful.” Natasha stretched her arms out to Marya and the woman drew her into her own arms, hugging her ever so gently. “Stay safe out there. I love you very much.”

“Stay strong for me, my dear. I promise, I’ll find that cure. No matter what it takes.” Marya kissed her forehead but did not pull away from the hug.

“I will.” It was Natasha who drew away first and she touched Marya’s cheek. “Go. I know you hate delaying.”

The goodbye was brief but it was enough for Marya. If this was her last conversation with Natasha, she would cherish it forever. She tried not to think of that possibility, that when she returned, Natasha was gone. No, she had to be positive. She would do this, she could. She had to! Their chances were higher than any other explorer who tried to find the potion. There was a chance! And Marya would hold on to that.

Marya left Sonya and Mary to their farewells, not wishing to intrude on their moment. They held each other close, offering displays of affection and encouragements that everything was going to be alright. The lovebirds. Marya had little time for love. Even if she did, she did not wish to spend her efforts seeking for what people called their ‘one true love’. She loved her goddaughters, her crew and her ship. That was all she needed in her life to keep her happy.

The packing did not take too long. She had everything she needed on her ship and all she needed were a few extras from her bedroom. Some clothes and money. The emptiness of her room reminded her of just how absent she was in her goddaughter’s life. She had been sailing in search for this potion, one failed voyage and another. But now, she had game. Those months had not gone to waste for they had something now that would lead them to promising results. Determination flared inside of her. Grasping her bag, she joined Mary who was already waiting in the sitting room and soon enough they left.

Moscow. That was the name of her beloved ship. Boarding its deck was a familiar feeling that made Marya feel good but now, as she stepped onto its grand platform, she felt the same doubt she had felt when she sat beside Natasha. She was leaving again, for the umpteenth time. And hopefully, she would return with success by her side. As the ship left the port, she watched the lights of the dock disappear, fading into nothingness in the void of night. Mary recited a quiet prayer for everyone on board and for their journey at sea, and for the results they would meet at the end of it all. And she prayed for Natasha. Marya dipped her head in respects, ending the prayer with the quiet utterance of ‘amen’. Her eyes diverted its gaze on the sea before her, her hands on the wheel as she piloted the ship to their destination. The moon was kind enough to illuminate a stream of silver on the waters. Its glimmer bringing some form of comfort to her. Thing were going to be alright.


	2. Out in the Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing, our mermaid.

Rays of sun pierced through the surface of the sea, streaks of yellow piercing through the blue. It was somewhere in the afternoon, where the sun was right above the ocean where Hélène Kuragina found pleasure lurking about. The tide carried her delicately as she basked underneath the sunrays, her arms outstretched by her sides and her eyes shut in a state of relaxation. She would maneuver herself with little flaps of her hands, feeling the way the tide controlled her direction as she went with it. If she could stay like that forever, let the ocean take her away freely from where she stayed, she would have been a happier mermaid. But there she was, floating just above the meadow of seagrass outside her home, relishing in the few minutes she had before she had to attend to some wedding matters. She took a deep breath, barely managing to exhale when she heard rustling in the grass below.

“Lena? Papa is calling for you!”

Hélène groaned softly, straightening her back before rolling over to look at her brother. “Just a few more minutes, Tolya.”

“Tell that to father and he’ll take your free time away.” Anatole Kuragina swam up to his sister’s side, wrapping an arm around her loosely as he beckoned her towards the house. “He’s not a patient man.”

“I know… I’ll be there in a bit. Just a few more minutes, I promise,” Hélène murmured.

“Alright. No delaying. He won’t be in a good mood,” Anatole warned her before ruffling her hair playfully.

Hélène watched as Anatole swam away. She wanted to loathe him for snapping her back into reality. Despise him for flaunting about in his freedom while she bore the burden of having to wed another. Tears stung her eyes, only to dissolve into the sea as though they were nothing. She could not cry, even if she wanted to pour out every ounce of sadness within her. The ocean forbade it, her father too. There was nothing around her that would not restrict her of doing the things she wanted. She reached a hand up to her face but flinched away upon making contact with the ring upon her finger. The cool touch of her wedding band against her cheek sent a shudder down her spine, a painful reminder that she was chained to another for life. She had to play wife to a merman she did not love and listen to his every word like the obedient mermaid she was suppose to be. If anything, she wanted to be stolen out of the dark. She wanted to be free of the depths that consume her but swimming away had proved uselessness.

Pierre was a kind merman but he was not the one for her. She adored him as a friend. The boundaries were set between them, and Pierre knew it himself. They shared a mutual sympathy for one another for never ever finding the chance to find someone they truly loved. They were only to be wed because of Hélène’s father, Vassily Kuragina, one of their kingdom’s most prestigious mermen. He was stone-faced, cruel, heartless but paraded with the façade of an oh-so-loving father. ‘ _It’s for the best_ ,’ was his reason for setting Pierre and Hélène up for marriage but the two of them were not as naïve as Vassily had perceived them to be. Pierre’s inheritance. That was what he was after and Pierre had given in so easily. Hélène was still in a raging war within herself and her father. If Pierre had given up, she would stand up for herself alone. That was if it were possible.

Turning away from the vast blue horizon before her, she was just about to swim away when a massive shadow loomed over her, casting darkness over the meadow. Curious, Hélène stopped to looked up where the unmistakable silhouette of a ship floated over their heads. Behind her, she could hear a flurry of indistinct chatter coming from the house but she paid it no mind, far too focused on the ship above her.

“Elena, come here this instant!” she heard her father roar.

Stubbornness overcame her and she scoffed at him. “I should like to see this myself,” she called over her shoulder before swimming upwards, towards the bottom of the ship.

“Humans are dangerous! Elena! Do not defy your own father!” Vassily commanded but his daughter refused to listen.

In truth, Hélène was fascinated by humans. She had mingled among few before and they certainly knew how to have a better time than mermaids did. They did her no harm so why would they this time? She rationalized her thoughts, tucking her worries away into the back of her head as she advanced towards the ship. She quite liked this rebelling. Hearing her father scream for her to return while Anatole anxiously followed his father’s words but in a much more timid tone. Vassily’s anger morphed into desperation and he began to swim after Hélène, demanding that Anatole stayed behind when he tried to follow.

“Elena, you are being stupid! Unless you want your free time taken away, you had better return home!” he yelled once more.

Just beside the ship’s hull, Hélène took some time marveling its architecture. She ran her fingers along the planks, polished and clean of any moss and growth of any sort. It was impressive how well maintained the ship was; there was hardly even a scratch on it! As she scrutinized the wonder, she failed to notice a crew spying on her from the ship’s deck, ready with a net to capture their prize. They withdrew their arms then flung the net overboard and it sank quickly with the weight of rocks pulling it down. It came swiftly for Hélène who only took notice when the trap weighed her down by the head and soon, she was sinking along with it. Regret filled her as she tried to swim out from under but with how rapidly the net fell, there was hardly a chance for escape.

“Papa!” 

She saw the unmoving figure of her father who watched as horror unfolded before him. In a second, the net had changed its course. With a heavy tug of the ropes, the net was pulling her upwards and out of the water. Her father became a blur of navy blue scales and Anatole was a mere blonde dot in the distance, his cries for his sister muffled by the waves. The net ascended as swiftly as it had descended and the next thing she knew, she could hear the thundering of the waves as they collided against the boat. The sun was in her eyes, a blazing heat singeing her skin and she could hear triumphant laughter with the occasional sound of someone squeaking, ‘Be careful with her’ which was excused by grunts and growls of disapproval. With one last tug, the net had been returned to the ship with its catch.

Hélène could not see their faces through the wild knotting of the net but she caught glimpses of strangely colored clothes. The net was thrown off of her head and she was met with the sight of many unfriendly faces, everyone of them grinning at her sinisterly. Except for one. From the first glance, Hélène immediately identified them as pirates for they all wore the same red bandana that represented their league. A very common thing among their kind. The print of a white dragon stood out against the red, white and grey flames circling it in a gorgeous pattern. They wore the accessory differently which was rather unique and original of themselves as individuals. Unfortunately, the way the crew dressed was not as spectacular as the bandanna which did them little justice. They each wore a color to present themselves. Orange, yellow, green, blue and so on, but the red representative was absent. The captain.

The one who was the least sinister out of them pushed her way through the crowd for a better look at Hélène and her eyes glowed with fascination. It made Hélène question herself as to how this girl managed to wriggle her way into a crew of pirates. She looked far too innocent for any sort of pirate activity and she did not have a sword like the rest. Only a book in hand. Hélène took this chance to grab someone as hostage. From where she stood frozen, she struck with sudden movement. In a blink of an eye, her tail transformed into legs and she was up on her feet. She managed to snatch a sword from the nearest holster in within an arm span, spun behind the timid one and held the blade to her neck. The girl let out a yelp, dropped her book to the ground to grasp the hand that held her waist in a painfully tight hold. The sword was her largest concern. One slice and she was done for. The others drew their swords, aiming the tip at Hélène who did not waver. Her father had spent most of her childhood teaching her how to be among people, whether a crowd that was against her or with her. It was about time she used the latter.

“I demand to speak to your captain,” Hélène spoke up boldly.

“And you think you have the privilege?” one retorted, inching their sword closer to Hélène who mirrored their actions, her blade touching the girl’s neck.

“I will only repeat myself once or this one gets it,” Hélène threatened and the girl whimpered in her hold.

“The captain won’t speak to any hostage, creature. Now lower that sword of before you end up scarring that pretty face of yours,” another spoke up.

“The only face that will be scarred here is hers”- She motioned to her own hostage.

“Why me?” the hostage mumbled, frowning at the rest of the crew who remained frozen.

A door creaked open, announcing the arrival of another. The clicking of footsteps emerged from the captain’s chambers and everyone turned to greet the newcomer. Everyone sheathed their swords and cleared the way for their captain who sauntered towards the cause of the commotion. She had her head held up high, her red curls pulled up into a loose bun and ink-stained arms folded over her chest. If Hélène were not meeting her under such tensed circumstances, she would have ogled over this beauty of a woman. Red lips, pale skin, striking blue eyes, tall but stunning frame.

“Now, now. Be a dear and release Mary. It would be a shame to lose her,” the woman said with a dangerous gaze.

“Are you the captain?” Hélène asked, disregarding the woman’s orders but she no longer had the intentions to harm her hostage.

“In the flesh.”

Hélène almost lost her balance. “You’re… a woman?”

“And is that an issue?” the woman asked, a hint of a grin stretching at the corner of her lip.

“I’ve never met a female captain before,” Hélène admitted as she released Mary who scurried over to Marya’s side. “I pray this is not some sort of joke.”

“I’ve never met a mermaid yet I have not resorted to praying that you are not a falsifier,” the other responded smoothly.

Hélène could feel her pride melting away. This woman, who claimed to be the captain, was excellent with words. Everything that Hélène tried to conjure as offense only backfired and she felt her mouth go dry. She was at a loss for words and she was unwilling to keep up with this battle of wit. Despite how short it was, this was a battle that she was losing and she found no point in keeping up with it if it was only going to beat her down. The captain studied her from head to toe, noting how Hélène’s legs still had scales here and there, a beautiful metallic green against olive skin. Being under her scrutiny made her shift uncomfortably. If she still had some pride, she would have enjoyed the attention but alas, she was defeated.

“Do you have a name, mermaid?” the captain asked, pursing her lips together lightly.

She hesitated. “Hélène… Hélène Kuragina”

“Hélène. Beautiful name for a creature like you.” She looked towards her crew then back at Hélène with a grin. “I’m Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova but everyone here calls me Captain Akhrosimova. The only you nearly killed is my best girl, Mary Bolkonsky, our scholar.”

Hélène shot Mary an apologetic look and she responded with a small smile. Marya was a woman unlike any other she had ever seen or met. She was an individual herself who presented herself with strength and originality. She was fierce but at the same time, so gentle. It was terrifying how much one woman can hide behind a beautiful face. Hélène’s eyes followed Marya as she stepped onto the stairway that led to the platform where she had full control of the ship. Hands grasping the steering wheel, the captain smirked, blue eyes glowing under then sunlight with the pride she had won from their little battle.

“Welcome to Moscow, mermaid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come & find me on tumblr and we can scream about these bbys!!  
> @irreplaceable-ecstacyy


	3. Two Feet on Land

Anatole stared at the spot where he had just witnessed a crew of humans abducting his sister. It all happened so quickly. One moment she was there at the hull of the ship, making a mockery out of their father and the next thing he knew, she was gone. The worst of it all was that he did not do anything to help his sister. He stood there frozen, shocked by fear and helplessness. He rationalized with himself for he did not want the burden of the fault to fall upon his shoulders because it truly was not him to blame. It was Hélène’s and partially their father’s. If it had not been for her carelessness or her impulses to rebel against Vassily, she would not have approached that darned ship. When her curiosity and stubbornness merged into one, the symbiosis could lead her straight to danger and she would not give so much of a care about her safety. His stupidly arrogant sister. Another reason came to mind that allowed him to find his breath and stability. Even if he had tried to swim to her, he would not have made it in time, and if his father had witnessed the failed effort Anatole would have gotten a terrible scolding.

His father did not move from where he stood, his dulled grey eyes fixed on the blue beyond him. The ship was gone. Whoever it was piloting the ship knew their ways with the wind and the sails for he had never seen such speed and technique. He did not try to make chase but instead swam back to Anatole, tapping the boy’s shoulder lightly before motioning for him to follow him back into the house. Anatole wanted to refuse, his jaw dropping open to protest but the glare that his father shot him made him clamp his mouth shut. Vassily behaved as though nothing had happened, his expression devoid of any emotion for the loss of his daughter. He swam towards the house and Anatole hurried to his side.

“Papa- L-lena. Aren’t you going to get her back? We must do something!” Anatole fretted.

“She’ll find her way back,” was Vassily’s response and he looked at Anatole who cowered away.

“What if they’re poachers? They might kill her! Take her scales! They’ll have her head!” Anatole pressed on but stopped when Vassily raised a hand.

“Elena is perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I’ve taught her better than to be a helpless little eel,” Vassily stated sternly. “If you had been in her place, you would have been killed in a heartbeat with that mouth of yours. Panicking is all you can ever do.”

“But- Does this mean… We aren’t going to do anything about it?” Anatole asked as he tugged at a few strands of loose platinum blonde hair.

Vassily nodded. “Precisely. Your sister will find her way back and if she does not, I’m afraid that will be the end of her.”

He said nothing more about Hélène and swam past the doors, leaving Anatole to mourn alone for his sister. Anatole would have to break the news to Pierre Bezukhova, Hélène’s fiancé. Even though Pierre and Hélène did not love each other, they obviously cared for one another. He would be devastated, just as Anatole was but there was nothing they could do. With no knowledge of where that ship was sailing to, their chances of ever finding Hélène were dimmed. The ocean was humongous, it would take years to cover every inch of it in search of one pirate ship and it only made it more difficult to know that the ship will most definitely not stay in one place. Pirates lived their lives at sea and would spend every waking hour on their ships striding along the waves. Anatole could only hope that Vassily’s belief in his sister’s capabilities were true. Otherwise, Hélène was truly gone.

* * *

Moscow sailed smoothly against the current of the waves. With every crash, the ship would tremor but no one lost their footing. The crew stood as tall and proudly as their captain, noses held up high in the air as they kept their eyes peeled on their new captive. Hélène challenged their gazes with her own deep dark stare but a pair of eyes was no match against several. Marya, who still stood on the platform, whistled one of them over to take control of the wheel while she attended to the mermaid. Her steel gaze made Hélène waver when their eyes met and she clutched her sword tighter. Marya made no movements to show that she was a threat but she reeked of peril and Hélène knew that she had to be cautious around this woman. Once again, she was under the captain’s scrutiny but this time she kept her head up, bent her legs a little and bent the arm with the slender hand that grasped the sword. To regain that confidence she had lost, she tried to mirror Marya’s demeanor. Using one’s own manner against themselves was a method she had learn from her father for an individual would always be weakened by themselves for they never knew the art of confronting one’s self. It was a skill Hélène was yet to master but Marya was a readable woman and this made the job easier for her.

Judging Hélène’s posture, Marya knew it was out of defense. Unfortunately for Hélène, she was just as readable and she knew her intentions. She shed herself of the maroon coat that she had thrown over her shoulders, passing it over to Mary who had taken her side so stealthily, Hélène missed catching a glimpse of her. Marya had her own sword holstered to her waist, its handle glowing under the rays of sunlight that caught it. It was just as well maintained and polished as the hull of the ship had been and it spoke volumes of the sort of person that Marya was. She cared for the things that she held most dear to her, both the sword and the ship, and it was impressive how dedicated she was in taking care of these little things. She drew her sword and pointed it to the floor, her arm straightened out. With the tip pointed to the floor, it indicated no invitation for a duel but the look in Marya’s features told otherwise. Her red lips tilted in a smirk, her brows raised in a tease as her eyes studied Hélène’s stance.

“Such a graceful stance… So, you can hold a sword,” Marya hummed and her smirk widened.

“Anyone could hold a weapon and pose,” Hélène remarked smartly.

“But can you use it?” Marya asked, the challenge in her voice.

“If it is a duel you want, I’ll be more than happy to show you that I can do more than pose prettily,” Hélène responded as she lifted her sword.

Marya raised her sword from the floor, its fierce silver tip pointed at Hélène. “And I’ll be more than happy to show you how it’s done.”

The crew backed up, forming a clean circle around the adversaries so that no one that was not directly involved got hurt. Mary positioned herself behind the circle, peering over the shoulder of one of the shorter crew member while clutching Marya’s perfumed coat to her chest. She was not worried about Marya’s safety, no, the woman was trained at sword-fighting. Mary had seen the woman duel with other pirates, bandits and creatures of sorts. In the end, she would leave unscathed and the only parts that the opponent’s blade would have touched were her simple clothes and hair; not that she minded. Hélène was probably a fool for daring to take up Marya’s challenge but Mary could not blame her for the brunette mermaid looked as though she knew her way around a sword. The tension in the air thickened, weighing itself upon the two women little by little until one of them budged.

Hélène struck first, her hind legs leaping to lunge herself at Marya at full speed. She swung her sword, allowing its weight to do most of the work but with one flick of her wrist, Marya parried the blow. Her feet were glued to the floor while her arm danced with the sword in hand. Having parried the heavy blow, Marya twisted her sword around Hélène’s, pushing it out of her way before using the same arm to elbow her opponent in the gut. Hélène had barely recovered from the way the parry sent a shock through her arm and to her chest, leaving her stupefied for a split second too late to respond. She staggered backwards but with her composure regained, she pressed one foot behind the other, bent and jumped. She delivered a kick to Marya’s chest who was caught off guard by how rapidly Hélène had managed to recollect herself. The way the mermaid moved was light and airy, a bird whose direction was a puppet to the wind and there was no flaw. Although Hélène’s actions were large and dynamic, her limbs moved with slick coordination, waves that slammed into Marya then withdrew only to come back again. Astounding.

Marya parried another strike followed by another then returned her own strikes. Hélène parried with strength, unlike the grace Marya had, and it was surprising just how much of energy she had. The merciless sun scorched a blazing heat upon them, its rays reflecting glittering stars from the swords as they glided through the air and ploughed into each other. The noise was deafening, how the metal structures scratched and shrieked but everyone had grown accustomed to such a disturbance. Marya still had not moved, standing in her spot while Hélène came to her. The clanging of swords grew louder over the howl of waves beneath the ship and the crew remained silent, respecting both women as it intensified. Hélène grunted and huffed at every swing of her arm, offending while Marya defended. Taking a step back, Hélène crouched then jumped, propelling towards Marya with another flying kick but the captain evaded it this time. There was something about Hélène’s actions that was so predictable and it was the way she bent her body. When she bent her body, she was transferring her energy to where she applied most pressure in one leg so that she could launch herself at Marya. With this newly found piece of information, Marya received the upper hand in the fight and Mary could tell by the snarky glint in her smirk.

A few more ear-piercing clangs of the sword and Hélène prepared herself for another lunge. She pounced and Marya moved out of the way, finally stepping out of spot. Without looking, she kicked a leg backwards, sending a blow to Hélène’s back and she collided into the wooden planks of the deck with an ungainly thud. Before she could get up, Marya decided to finish it off by imitating Hélène’s favorite move with precision. She pressed a foot behind her, crouched then pounced onto her prey. She kneed the fallen mermaid’s back to keep her on the ground when she tried to rise, knocking the wind out of her lungs as she was sent back to her position of obvious trounce. Marya lifted her knee and Hélène spun around to face her, propping herself up on an elbow until they were nose to nose. The hot touch of Marya’s blade met the cool skin of her neck, and thankfully it was the blunt side of it. Icy blue eyes bore into dark irises, their chests heaving heavily as they caught their breaths. Marya had straddled Hélène’s torso, using her weight to keep the mermaid down as she indulged in her victory. A hand clamped the sword-holding hand, keeping it down above her head where it waved about hopelessly. Hélène had put up a splendid fight but she needed plenty of practice to be at par with Marya. How sweet this tasted to win another fight against this hard-headed brunette. It fueled her pride, pride that she was feeding off of Hélène.

“I win,” Marya declared.

“You got lucky, captain,” Hélène spat as she shoved the sword away from her neck.

“You’re good, mermaid, but not good enough. Don’t ever toy with a sword if you can’t play properly,” Marya advised as she stood up, waving a hand towards her crew. “Such a pity, really. If you had won, I would have let you go. As for now, you are our prisoner and I’m afraid you won’t be returning home until we get what we need.”

“You- What?!”

Two of the crew members grasped Hélène’s arms and forced up on her feet. They were average sized but they were strong! In fact, no one in the crew had the looks of a menacing or imitating pirate crew. They looked like regular sailors based on their appearances had it not been for the matching bandanas that established their identities. They were deceiving, but it was an intelligent idea to trick their targets into thinking that they were not pirates. The two that had captured her dragged her away from the circle, ignoring her frantic squirming and muddled screaming. The more she struggled, the tighter their holds became and the pain that rocketed through her arms was enough to silence her.

“I hope you enjoy your stay, mermaid. I’m afraid hospitality is limited but do try to make yourself comfortable,” Marya muttered as she walked towards the doors of her study.

“You awful human being! I don’t know what the hell it is that you want for me but you’re fucking cruel!” Hélène yelled.

“Someone’s got a feisty tongue,” Marya chuckled sinisterly with a shake of her head.

“When I get my hands on you, you’ll be sorry!”

Hélène’s mind returned to her family, her brother and Anatole. Even Pierre. Were they worried about her? Were they going to try to find her? She had lost to the captain twice and that only forecasted more losses to come. She was not match for Marya and that costed her freedom. In and out of water, was there ever the day when she would be free of someone’s clutches? She was miserable and the events that had happened on the ship sent her plummeting into torment. She held in her tears and it accumulated into an ache in her chest which made breathing a labor. She lowered her head to stare at the ground where her feet dragged unwillingly against the wooden planks, blurry from the tears that welled up.

The crew members discarded her into a cell beneath the ship’s deck where the pirates stocked up supplies. The only source of light for her was the lone ventilator above her head, where sunlight squeezed its way through the holes to illuminate the room. At night, there was a single oil lamp that hung from the ceiling of the storage room and hopefully, it was enough for her to see when night fell. Left alone, silence dawned on Hélène with an unpleasant ringing in her ears accompanied by the loud cries of the waves. She was close to the water yet so far. She could feel its pulses of the current, how it tugged at her in response to her longing for its cool and comforting touch against her now warm skin. The ocean was calling to her to return to its depths, every wail and whine reaching her ears. She needed the water too. It was her strength, her peace, one of the things that kept her so alive. Now that was taken away from her too.

She was exhausted, drained of her energy from the duel and the lack of water added to how light-headed she became. She lowered herself onto the floor and curled up into a dark corner, bringing her knees to her chest for comfort. With nothing else to hug, she resulted to holding her own legs that burnt from the heat. She closed her eyes, hoping to succumb to sleep so that she could disappear. At least she could escape for a few hours and be free of the bars she was trapped inside of. She should not have rebelled against her father nor should she have given her curiosity the permission to guide her towards the ship. This was her punishment and she knew she deserved it.


	4. A Gathering Storm

It had been days ever since Hélène was abducted. They dragged on for an eternity, cold and relieving nights that slowly transitioned into days of agonizing heat that torched her flesh. She was confined in her cell all throughout the days, unless she had an acceptable reason to come out, she was to remain behind bars. The captain was kind enough to give her decent meal three times a day. The provision of water was generous too but it was not enough for her.

Merpeople needed water to survive more than they needed food for their bodies were made to adapt to being underwater than on land. The spontaneous weather and unforgiving heat were not occurrences that happened in the ocean. The ocean was like a cool silk blanket that draped over one’s body, caring and careful. Its surface was a shield that protected merpeople from the sun, splintering its rays that disappeared into the ocean blue. A human’s body was more durable, built to be versatile for any condition. Humans, of course, did not realize the difference between a humanoid creature’s and their own body. As similar as humanoid creatures were to humans, no amount of selfishness in them was comparable to a human’s. That was what Hélène thought anyway. Humans entitled themselves as superior beings who reigned supreme over anyone that was out of the norm or vulnerable. That was their nature and unfortunately for Hélène, she had fallen prey in their ecosystem.

Laying in her cell, Hélène rubbed her arms lightly to soothe the pain of the heat then dipped three fingers into her cup of water to scatter the collected droplets over her dried skin. She only drank half of the cup’s contents, leaving the other half to scatter over her aching body but it did little to help. The residue of water was enough to cover her arms and torso but legs laid neglected. It was a little past midnight and the wind was cooling, but it was another problem that added to how the weather was hurting her. It was freezing and the moth-eaten cloth they called a blanket was useless. The only other kind thing that the captain had given to her as part of hospitality were some clothes that were at least half protective against the cold. Since Marya was half a head taller than her, she should not have expected any of the clothes to be very fitting. A white crisp shirt with longs sleeves that Hélène had decided to roll up to her shoulders paired with long black pants that reached past her feet. At this rate, she was technically prancing her way to death’s door. She doubt she would make it through the voyage. Just a few more pushes, she would be done for.

Closing her eyes, she tried to escape her suffering with slumber. She scrunched up her nose, squeezed her eyes shut tightly and waited for the familiar darkness to consume her but it never came. Not when there was someone calling out to her. She sat up and turned to look at the source that was calling her, a silhouette squatting outside the bars. The orange glow of the single lamp in the room was enough to reveal her late-night visitor, and it was that shy scholar, Mary Bolkonsky.

“Hi… I hope I’m not intruding,” Mary whispered as she sat herself down.

“What do you want?” Hélène croaked, her voice a rasp.

“I came down here to bring you some things. Important things,” Mary told her as she picked up a bucket full of water, grunting in the process of lifting it.

Hearing how the water sloshed, Hélène crawled up to the bars, suddenly desperate. “Y-you… You brought this for me?”

“Yes. I did a bit of reading on merpeople and I-I failed to realize how essential water is to your kind. I apologize. If I had known earlier, I-I would have asked them to provide more,” Mary mumbled as she pulled out a ring of keys to unlock the door but she stopped. “Please don’t run out or attack me. Ma- Captain Akhrosiomva entrusted me with this job…”

“I won’t, I promise- I just need the water, please!” Hélène begged, moving away from the door so that Mary could walk in.

“I trust you… Alright?” Mary unlocked the door and walked in with the bucket, a cloth hanging from the rim. Under her arm was a thick woolen blanket to replace Hélène’s dreadful one. Strange really but Hélène did not question it for her desperation was growing. “Here… Refill your cup. I’ll clean you up… I um- If you grant me permission.”

Hélène nodded vigorously as she went to retrieve her discarded cup in her lonely corner, scooping a cupful of water from the bucket. She tipped her head backwards, chugging the liquid with an aggressive thirst, even growling in satisfaction when she was done. Lucky for her, it was a fairly large bucket so a second cup of water would still leave Mary plenty left to wipe her down with. She swooped in for another and wolfed it down faster than the first cup; and Mary observed her with wide eyes. Repositioning herself to sit behind the mermaid, Mary lifted the back of Hélène’s shirt, picked up the cloth, soaked it in water then began to wipe it down her back. Hélène shuddered ever so lightly, letting out a groan of satisfaction as the water dripped down her back to soothe the dried parts of exposed skin. Her shoulders drooped in relaxation, indulging in the familiar pleasure of water against her skin. The scent of the night’s sea breeze brought comfort too but it only added to her yearning to return to the depths, back to its welcoming embrace.

Mary could see the sadness in Hélène’s eyes, how they fell as brown hues looked towards the glow of the moonlight. She never thought Marya’s desperation would lead to such hostility towards a beautiful creature. If only Mary could do something to get something into Marya’s head about treating their ‘guest’ properly, things would not have to be so hard. Hélène refused to speak a work to Marya or answer any of the questions about the cure so Mary had to do most of the talking. Having had many conversations, none of them were fruitful for Hélène was recalcitrant which infuriated Marya greatly. Mary, the poor girl, was always caught in between their disputes but she managed a decent job handling their tempers.

“Did the captain send you here?” Hélène asked, half hopeful as she turned to look at Mary over her shoulder.

“You could say that…” Mary answered but it was not enough for Hélène.

“The answer is either ‘yes’ or ‘no’,” Hélène scolded but there was no fire in her voice.

Mary swallowed anxiously. “You see- Oh, where do I begin? Um- I was reading a journal and I came to a part about mermaids. You see, whoever wrote that journal, they” – She paused to reconsider her story- “They killed a mermaid by accident because they did not know how to care for one… Lack of water. They made the mistake of giving the mermaid a _human’s_ usual intake of water but they did not consider our biological differences and needs. So I told the captain and she told me take better care of you.”

“So that you can keep me as your prisoner until you find what it is that you want?” Hélène scoffed bluntly.

“No!” Mary cut herself off with a sigh. She dipped the cloth into the water, soaking it up again before continuing from where she stopped. “We don’t mean any harm… The captain means well.”

“I doubt that,” Hélène snorted.

“She’s a pirate. What do you expect?” Mary shot back almost frustratingly. “She has her reasons. You must understand that we, pirates, always have purpose behind the things we do.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not allowed to tell.”

Hélène rolled her eyes. “Then you won’t be getting anything out of me the next time you ask me about the Asian waters.”

“Just how stubborn can you be?” Mary whined helplessly.

“You have no idea, ma cherie.”

Mary moved to sit in front of Hélène who was smirking cheekily at her. The scholar shook her head and bit down on her lips apprehensively. She did not have Marya’s strength in wordy quarrels and it made her realize how Hélène was just as skillful as Marya with words. She was subdued, uncertain of what to say against the mermaid to get the answers that she wanted. A part of her felt unsettled about offending the other should anything inappropriate be blurted out by accident. The conditions that Hélène was living under were barbaric enough. The last thing she needed was another enemy to make in a ship full of them. Twisting the dried cloth in her hand, Mary squirmed in her place as she contemplated her decisions.

“I’ll tell you the important details. It’s nearly enough for you to know,” Mary mumbled as she dunked the cloth into the bucket then tipped Hélène’s head upwards by the chin.

“How kind of you,” Hélène hummed, shutting her eyes as Mary began to wipe down her face.

“We are looking for a cure,” Mary started.

“The Zhìyù. I figured,” Hélène interjected. “It’s an impossible quest.”

“Some hope would have been nice,” Mary sighed, her features falling slightly. “Anyway, as I was saying, the captain’s been looking for the cure for nearly a year now.”

Hélène narrowed her eyes at the other. “I admire the dedication but why spend such a long time looking for it? And I hope you are aware that you’re not the only ones out there hunting it down.”

“We know that but what the other scavengers do not have is a good lead,” Mary added confidently.

“I can agree with you on that one…” Hélène had seen Mary’s journals. The whole lot of them. Where she found them, she did not know but she assumed that it was through their pirate ways of trading through unfair card games or being stealthy around those who had the leads before them. There was no way that the journals and maps were handed to them without a price. Even though they were not the cure itself, a single clue from those pieces of writing meant more than a box of gold for it was a step towards achieving the impossible. With Hélène as their missing piece to their puzzle, they had everything they needed to find this cure and their chances were sky high.

“That may be the nicest things you have ever said ever since you boarded the ship,” Mary mumbled with a small hint of a smile that was enough to elicit a crack of a smile too.

Hélène chuckled lightly. “I compliment those who deserve it… And um” – She rubbed her hands together awkwardly- “I want to apologize for using you to threaten your fellow crew mates.”

“Oh.” Mary chewed on the insides of her cheeks then nodded briefly, feeling a little surprised. “I forgive you…And I’m sorry, on behalf of the crew, for mistreating you.”

“Thank you and you’re forgiven too.” Hélène looked down at her feet and ran her fingers along her scales. “So, will you tell me why the captain wants the cure?”

Mary froze for a second. “It’s… It’s something very personal.”

“Perhaps a brief outline of it?” Hélène urged.

Mary looked up in solemn thought. “Someone dear to the captain is dying of tuberculosis… There isn’t a cure out there so she thought it would be better to try to achieve the impossible rather than do nothing,” Mary explained and Hélène’s fell into an ‘o’.

“I’m really sorry to hear that…” Hélène murmured and concern settled upon her features.

“Our captain really means you no harm. She just wants to save this person. If there’s anything else she cares about more than her ship, it’s that person,” Mary said as she brushed Hélène’s hair aside to wipe down her neck. “I’m not saying this to buy your pity but we really do need your help.”

The scorn that Hélène held for Marya extinguished and she almost felt sorry for being so awful towards the woman. If Marya had told her the true purpose of abducting her in such a haste and travelling to a far of place from home, she would have offered the most help she could provide in all her ability. She had wasted far too much of time stalling and sulking like a child when she could have provided the information that they needed to get over this mess. The cure was out there somewhere, in the depths of the ocean and she knew it. It was an old mermaid’s tale and there were true stories of those who had seen the cure itself from centuries ago. It was guarded by the powerful wrath of Asian creatures that lurked in the depths of the Asian oceans, concealed within the ancient walls of an underwater temple. With her inhumane abilities as a mermaid, she was their guiding key to their goal for she could sense what was in the ocean that no human was capable of doing so. However, instead of using her abilities for the betterment of others, her persistence had dragged their voyage into what was almost useless and a waste of time. Every second that ticked by, the person that Marya held dear to her was slipping away and her blood would be in Hélène’s hands. She did not want someone to lose a loved one because of her selfishness and so, she would cooperate.

She returned to the present when she caught the strong whiff of petrichor, almost topping onto back from how sudden it came. Mary withdrew her hand sharply upon seeing the mermaid in a state of shock, confused about the abrupt mood swing. As a human, she could not smell what Hélène’s heightened olfactory senses could pick up but the more worried the mermaid seemed, the more it was tolling on Mary.

“What is it?” Mary managed as she pushed the bucket away.

Hélène rose to her feet and stood underneath the ventilating bars to feel the wind blow against her face. Rain. She could smell it despite how far it was. The wind carried its scent and with every breeze, the smell grew stronger. Mary took Hélène’s side and looked towards the bars, squinting her eyes to see through the narrow gaps in between the metal. From what she could see, she could make out the clear midnight sky speckled in bright silver stars that stretched across the sky to fill its emptiness. There was not a dark cloud in sight to ruin the lovely night view. If it were not for Hélène’s paranoid eyes, Mary would have believed that the night was going to be perfect.

“What is it? Mary repeated.

“A storm is coming on. We’ll capsize if we don’t steer away or navigate through it properly!” Hélène cried out in panic.

“A storm?! But”-

“No buts. I need you to tell your captain now to stay clear of what’s ahead!” Hélène interrupted as she shoved Mary towards the cell door. “ **Go!!** ”

“I- Oh- Okay”- Mary stammered and she bolted out of the cell, picking her legs up as she flew up the single flight of stairs that led to the deck.

Hélène did not leave the cell for she did not wish to stir up any trouble with the crew. She hunched her back, buried her face in her hands and waited for the storm to come. Goodness knew if the scholar had already found the captain to warn her about the storm before it was too late. The deck above was quiet of footsteps, save for the rapid stomping of the scholar who had just ran across the planks overhead. The silence prolonged and Hélène knew it was too late. A rush of cold air seeped through the planks and the ventilation bars, and the waves shook the boat violently. Rushed footsteps thundered the deck and Hélène could hear the captain bellowing orders. The wind howled with ice and rage, the first droplets of rain hailed onto the ship and chaos ensued. The storm had come to them before they could go to it. It was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you like to freak out over Comet?  
> Then please, feel free to hunt me down on tumblr @irreplaceable-ecstacyy


	5. War In the Water

The waves tossed and churned nauseatingly, rocking the ship with all its might as the storm budded from the congregation of clouds in the darkened sky above. Screams and shouts echoed through the haze of noise, voices fighting over the drumming of the rain and monstrous thunder. It was a war between humans and nature, and it was growing evident that mother nature was already claiming her win. Moscow’s crew clung on to the ropes that raised the sails, heaving with heavy grunts and yells as they hoisted the sails to keep the ship upright on the rapids. Their lives depended on the ropes as the ship tremored violently with power that had knocked several of them off of their feet and the ropes also served as a prevention from flying overboard when it tipped dangerously to one side by a large wave. Moscow’s captain steered the ship judiciously, barking firm orders at the crew to maneuver the ship with the wind while she did with the water. Together, both parties worked a symbiosis between water and wind to establish balance so that they could sail through the storm without anyone getting hurt.

Mary stood idly beside one of the larger crew mates, his singlet bunched up in tight fists for she did not wish to disrupt the rhythm of the rope pull. With her stamina, she was barely of any help. She had done what she could and that was to inform Marya of the storm that they were now caught in. With that, Marya had tried to send her to her chambers to shield her away from the storm but it had arrived earlier than they had anticipated. She had nearly flown into the water because of the terrible wind but it was the crew members who pulled her back on board with an easy grasp before she the weather could take her forcefully. She echoed Marya’s orders to the crew in case they could not hear the captain over the thunder and her voice was shrill enough to pierce through the chaos around them.

“Pull the rope, again! Harder!” Mary yelled, amplifying the urgency of Marya’s voice as she mimicked her words.

“If the storm doesn’t make me deaf, it’s you!” someone behind her shouted.

“You either go deaf or you **die**!” Mary screamed at them, causing them to go quiet. “Now listen to me and pull these ropes when I tell you to!”

“Atta girl, Mary!” Marya exclaimed proudly behind the wheel.

The more they fought against the weather, the more destructive it became. Lightning flashed, revealing the silhouette of an enormous wave obstructing their way. It fought against the tide and it almost looked unnatural how this one wave came crashing down in a different direction from the other smaller ones. It came roaring towards them mercilessly, engulfing the entire ship in dark water as it plummeted. The crew held onto the ropes while Marya grasped the wheel tightly, feet planted into the ground to withstand the force of the wave. The water washed away from the deck, leaving everyone gasping for air and spluttering sea water out of their mouths once their heads were free of the water’s embrace. The ship had nearly capsized from the impact but Moscow continued to sail augustly. The crew, unfortunately, was broken. A member was gone, taken by the wave.

Marya saw it happen before her very eyes. How the wave grasped Mary and pulled her into the ocean, off the ship. The scholar had cried out helplessly as the water clawed her into the water, the hurtful scream that tore from her throat ringing through the wind. The crew member that she had depended her life on had failed to catch her arm when the wave snatched her, his fingers barely closing around her wrist when he tried to reach out to her. Some of the crew members abandoned their ends of the rope, rushing over to the side of the ship to survey the water for any sign of their lost scholar. They called her name, their voices growing hoarse in panic as they battled the voices of nature that buffered their voices into nothing. With the white waves crashing mixed with the black ocean, they could not see Mary and their calling subsided into hopelessness.

Marya found an immediate replacement to take the wheel while she ran to the crew members who stared into the oblivion of the ocean. She could not find her voice to call out Mary’s name, her mouth hanging open while wide eyes scanned the water. Not a sign of her, only the ocean taunting at her as it churned beneath the hull of the ship.

Within the cellar of the ship, Hélène had felt a shift in the water. Someone had fallen offboard and by the screams of the crew members, it was Mary. Not the poor dear. Mother Nature had every right to throw a rage upon humans but not upon those who did not deserve the consequences of her tantrum. She broke into a run, pushing past the cell door that flew out of her way and against the wall. Mary’s presence in the water was faint as Hélène ascended the stairs that led to the deck of the ship. The water twisted and wriggled as the woman struggled to bring herself to the surface but the further she descended to her near demise, Hélène was losing her presence. The ship rocked but she did not take a second to pause. When she fell, she prowled on all fours then regained her composure on her two feet. She materialized beside the captain who turned to glare at her but Hélène did not give her a chance to even exhale.

“Raise the sails portside but keep the ones on starboard up, slightly looser. Steer to port, let the wind lead the ship but do not tip the wheel any more than forty-five degrees or you’ll lose balance. Go!” Hélène told Marya as she slid out of her pants, tossing it at the captain who could do nothing but stare.

“What do you think you’re doing, mermaid!?” Marya demanded.

“Saving your ass and your scholar! Now, go! Another second and you’ll be at the bottom of the ocean!” Stepping over the sides, Hélène dove into the ocean and just like that, she disappeared.

Marya draped the discarded pair of pants over her shoulder and hurried to the wheel. Some part of her doubted her but the more sensible part decided to trust Hélène. “You heard the mermaid! Raise the sails!” God, if the mermaid escaped, this would be the end of her… The end of Natasha.

In the water, Hélène followed her senses, allowed them to guide her through the darkness. She could still feel Mary’s impotent struggling, only weaker. Her legs had turned back into her tail and the ocean felt ever so soothing against her skin. It reenergized her, giving her more than enough strength for her senses to pick up the lost scholar’s presence in the void. The pulse in her head, the connection of the water to her veins, were calming but there were spasmodic beats that were fading away into nothing. The faded beats tolled on Hélène and she feared that she might never find Mary. The darkness or the freezing cold did not help, nor did the dreadful feeling of loss. It settled deep within her like an ache. She did not know the scholar well but to lose a kind soul was one of the worst losses the world could ever face. The ocean had taken her and goodness knew where she was. The current pulled and push fiercely, she could be anywhere.

Hélène opened her mouth and cried Mary’s name, her voice travelling in soundwaves loud enough for the other to hear and that was when the pulse in her head ignited sharply. She was just below her, sinking rapidly. And so, Hélène dipped, stretching her arms over her head to speed up. She channeled every ounce of energy into her tail, swimming so vigorously it hurt but she could not afford to stop. A pale hand reached out to her from the dark and Hélène seized it. Redirecting herself, she swam towards the surface with the same amount of speed. Her hands worked to pull Mary up to her, hugging the scholar close so that she did not slip from her slippery grasp. In seconds, Hélène burst through the surface and she heard Mary gasp audibly for air to fill her deprived lungs. She was alive and it was quite a miracle how she had managed to hold her breath for so long.

Mary clung to Hélène, tears streaming down her cheeks as she let out frightened sobs and strangled ‘thank yous’. Holding on to Mary, Hélène swam to the ship. The captain had listened to her for it had changed his course leftwards towards the nearest escape from the storm. When they came into sight, the crew above cheered for Mary’s safety but the celebration died out when the waves threatened to swallow both the mermaid and scholar once more and fear dominated them. Marya, who had witnessed the little celebration, came prepared with a rope. She threw one end over and Hélène caught it with precision. One hand held the rope while the other clutched Mary’s waist tightly. She doubted that Mary would slip for the woman had wrapped her legs around her waist and her arms were locked around her neck securely. It was the matter of Hélène being able to hold on with one hand until they were safe.

“Pull them up!” Marya shouted as she held the rope, ready to tug it.

The crew took the rope and with one incredibly firm tug after another, Hélène and Mary were sent flying back onto the ship’s deck safely. Before crashing into the wooden planks, Hélène held Mary close, turning a little to brace them for the landing. She landed on her back and she cushioned Mary’s fall with her weakened body but it did not matter. Mary was safe and very much alive, it was all that mattered. An ache burnt on the flesh of her hand and she figured it was a burn from the rope. With how hard she had held it, there was no doubt that it would have left a mark.

The crew members attended to Mary, one gathering her in her arms while the others tried to warm her up with their coats. In the direction that they were sailing, the storm had calmed drastically. The dark clouds still loomed, casting them in a shadow but the waves were gentler and the thunderstorm had vanished into dull skies. The wind still blew but it caressed her skin like a lover’s touch. Hélène heard footsteps and her view of the sky was blocked by the redheaded captain who looked at her, her hostility absent. Neither spoke but Hélène smirked up at Marya who looked bewildered. Hélène’s chest rose and fell heavily and her eyelids drooped in exhaustion. Still, she remained awake. Her metallic green tail did not turn into legs for she had lost the energy to morph back and it would only hurt her to use up the remainder of her energy to do so. Marya had nothing to say about that, but she had a lingering thought. One that stunned her.

“You didn’t leave.”

Hélène let out a dry chuckle. “You’re welcome…” Inhaling slowly, she shut her eyes and she swore she heard Marya squeak.

“Hey”- Marya knelt down beside Hélène, pressing a hand to her neck to feel her pulse. Her skin felt cold. “You’re not dying, are you?”

“I’m tired…” was all Hélène said and she relaxed against the cold hard floor, finding what little comfort she could.

Marya did not say anything else, watching the mermaid wordlessly. Lord, how beautiful she looked. In all her years of sailing, Marya had never met a mermaid but she had seen pictures, various illustrations from sailors who had interpreted these creatures differently. Some had called them ‘men-eating’ beasts and some labelled them under ‘sirens’ who were a completely different species. Hélène was unlike any of the illustrations she had seen in Mary’s encyclopedia. She was gorgeous and Marya would dare-say, attractive. The way her oversized shirt clung to her olive skin, wet curls splayed over her face but still maintained their volume. When she had first captured her, she did not spare much time taking her in. During the duel, with how swiftly Hélène moved, it was tough but she had to admit that she moved better than most pirates she had ever dueled with. Now here she lay exhausted, her eyelids fluttering as shining droplets of water slid down her lashes and to her cheeks. Marya did not dare to let her eyes look any further down. Looking at Hélène from her slackened shoulders to her gorgeous face was enough to make Marya’s heart beat rapidly. God, she was perfect.

A light blush colored Marya’s pale cheeks and the heat brought her staring to a halt. They had narrowly escaped a storm and here she was swooning over a mermaid she had been awful to. ‘ _Get a grip, Akrhosimova._ ’ Standing up, she ordered for her coat and it was brought to her instantly by a vacant crew member. With a nod of thanks, she got to work. She lifted Hélène just enough to slide the coat underneath her then wrapped her up in the coat. Once she was nicely wrapped up, Marya picked her up with ease, carrying her in a bridal style to her chambers. She was surprisingly light and quite small in her arms but it made the job easier. Marya had expected a word of protest but when she looked down at the mermaid, she was fast asleep, snoring away quietly while her head leaned into Marya’s shoulder. How adorable she looked.

Kicking the door open to her chambers, she strode inside the room then nudged the door close with the heel of her boot. After Hélène saved Mary, Marya felt guilty for treating her so awfully. Her desperation to save Natasha had clouded her morals. She thought that her command would get her to the cure but that only damaged Hélène’s health and wasted most of her time. If her dignity allowed her to apologize, she would a thousand times until she deemed it was enough to earn forgiveness for all she had done to the mermaid.

Marya laid her down on a cushioned chair then went to her closet to retrieve some dried clothes to replace the drenched shirt. With the tail, a pair of pants would not be of any help so Marya went with a nightgown instead. All changed and dried up decently, Marya transferred Hélène to her bed and tucked her in so that she could get some proper sleep unlike the blinks of unconsciousness she would get in the cellar below. She brought the blanket over her shoulders then adjusted the sleeves of the loose nightgown over Hélène’s exposed skin to protect her from the cold. Marya released a breath she did not realize she had been holding and she brushed a curl away from Hélène’s face. Hélène shifted to burrow herself into the warmth and softness of the bed but did not stir awake. The peace upon Hélène’s features was enough to calm down the raging beating of her heart and a smile made its way to her red lips.

“Sleep well, mermaid…”

The captain had duties to attend to. Now that they were back on course, they had to continue sailing. Their next destination was the closest dock to them, wherever that was, for they were running low on supplies. With an extra mouth to feed, they had to restock more than they would usually get. Marya walked away from the bed reluctantly and towards the door, casting a look over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Hélène. Smiling to herself, she left the room quietly.


	6. Ocean Vapor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sub-chapter to chapter 5 but it ended up being longer than the actual chapter itself. But anyway, enjoy all the fluff <3

Roses… and a hint of herbs. How curious the combination was, but it was pleasant, nonetheless. It was certainly a lot better than the murky and mildewed smell of the damp prison that had accommodated her throughout the weeks of her stay onboard. The bedding was delightful. Every time she adjusted herself, the comfort grew immensely. There were no splinters to jolt her awake painfully nor were there any strange little land creatures nibbling at her feet or curls. Sunlight shone through the rounded window, just above the bed, and the first rays of the morning sun caressed her skin. Hélène was not used to such affection upon awakening. To be bathed by sunlight during the early hours of the day, her eyes flickered open to meet the sight of a blended sky of orange and blues. It was clear of clouds and it allowed the sun to shine in all of its glory, its light striking onto the ocean which reflected specks of glitter into the bedroom. The room was simple. It had imperial red walls, patterned with little salmon colored dragons which was the symbol of the pirate crew. A study desk sat in a corner with books stacked on top of one another on the left corner in an orderly fashion, from the largest to smallest upwards. On the right corner was a bottle of ink with a quill and parchment underneath it. Not a sign of imperfection. A bag was placed on a chair just beside the bed with clothes spilling out of it and it explained why there was no wardrobe. That was all the room consisted of. No treasure or riches, nothing too fancy or out of the ordinary. It was just a bedroom morphed with a study room.

Hélène sat up and blew her curls out of her face with a weak puff while fumbling with the blanket that covered her tail. With enough space, her tail transformed into legs and she took a moment to stretch herself out. Her mind was fuzzy and she could only remember diving into the ocean to save Mary from drowning in the middle of a storm. After the whole fiasco, she recalled a brief conversation with the captain then darkness. Now she was in the captain’s bed, changed into a soft nightgown and in the embrace of her crimson coat. The coat was a little too big for Hélène’s smaller frame but it was the coziest article of clothing she had ever worn. With how thin the nightgown was, the coat did not feel too warm or suffocating so she kept it on. She found the sleeves, inserting her arms through them and pulled it over herself with a small giddy grin. A whiff of roses. Her eyes lit up and she brought her hands to her face that were concealed within the extra length of the sleeves. Intrigued, she pressed her hands to her face, inhaling the scent slowly.

She shuddered and she exhaled through her mouth. The coat was where the floral scent came from, with a dash of herbs. It was almost intoxicating _. Does the captain smell like this?_ What a ridiculous question to ask herself. And speaking of the captain, Hélène had to thank her for ensuring that she got proper rest and for keeping her warm by sacrificing her own coat and warmth. Hugging the coat to herself, she got out of bed and exited the room. The sky greeted her in blues and whites, and the present crew members wished her polite ‘good morning’s. Looking around, the captain was nowhere in sight. Scattered around the ship were slumbered crew members sleeping snugly in blankets and pillows, but there were some who were very much awake to handle the ship. The wheel was in the hands of another crew member and the absence of striking red hair made it clear that the captain was not on deck. She could be in the storage room below, Hélène concluded and she began to walk towards the stairway that led below when she saw Mary jogging up to her with her hands waving energetically. She waved back and laughed softly as the scholar skidded to a halt.

“You’re awake! How’re you feeling?” Mary asked, her hands fidgeting with a quill.

“I’m feeling alright. This may be the best I’ve ever felt,” Hélène answered as she tied her hair into a loose. “What about you?”

“A little shaken after what happened yesterday but I’m good,” Mary said with a smile. “I want to thank you for saving me yesterday. It was very selfless of you and I owe you so much for that. If there’s any way I can repay you, I’d like to know.”

“You don’t owe me a thing, ma cherie. You’ve been kind to me and that’s enough,” Hélène asserted and it made Mary flush.

“O-oh, it was the right thing to do,” she mumbled.

Hélène extended her arms to Mary and the scholar hugged her with a contented sigh. Hélène patted her back then pulled away and Mary kicked at the floor with the tip of her boot, giggling quietly to herself. It was wonderful to see Mary up on her feet again so quickly and it showed how strong-willed the scholar was. She did not look as tough as the others did but she was a fighter. Hélène could see that in her. It was up to Mary if she wanted to unleash that fighter behind the innocent but intelligent look. If the day ever came, Hélène wanted to be there to see it firsthand.

“Do you happen to know where the captain is?” Hélène asked, interrupting the silence that had settled in.

“Ma- The captain? She’s up in the crow’s nest”- She pointed towards the tallest mast of the ship. “She usually goes up there to see the sunrise but she’s taking a much longer time up there. Not sure why.”

“Perfect. I must speak to her,” the mermaid stated.

“Try not to startle her. She likes being alone up there and she never expects people to join her,” Mary warned her quite seriously.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hélène assured. “Thank you… Mary was it?”

“You’re welcome and yes. And you’re… Hélène, right?” Mary probed awkwardly.

“Yeah. I’ll see you around, ma cherie.”

Hélène saluted and touched her cheek before hastening her way to the mast that Mary had pointed at. Above was a platform connected to thick ropes that were netted into a ladder. It did not look like much of a challenge so Hélène started her climb. It was easier than climbing up the jagged side of a cliff even though it trembled in the breeze. Hélène scaled the ropes dexterously and not a drop of sweat broke from the task. One more step and she would be on the platform but she stopped to knock of the wooden walls to inform the captain of her arrival. Marya stood with her back facing the gap of the wall that gave entrance, leaned over with her folded arms resting on the neatly cut top of the wooden planked walls. In her hand, she held a locket to her lips, the golden chain hanging from her fist. She wore the same clothes from when the storm had attacked them but they were dry and slightly wrinkled. She reeked of seawater and the morning breeze, and it became another smell Hélène came to enjoy. The captain’s hair cascaded down her shoulders, wavy locks of red that contrasted against her white crisp shirt and pale skin. It shone underneath the sun like the first glimpse of light in the morning against the dark, the red that turned into an orange then yellow before irradiating the day with blue. She was breathtaking.

At the knock, Marya craned her head over her shoulder to identify her visitor, her eyes gentle when they found Hélène. Then, she turned away to look at the view, flicking her hand to invite Hélène in. The mermaid obliged, clambering onto the platform to join the captain’s left. And she understood why Marya loved the platform. The view was incredible from above. It was where the ocean met the sky, a mixture of blues that did not blend with one another. A bright line divided them, one that stretched so far in the horizon, it was endless. She could see the greenery of islands ahead, specks that were spread across the ocean that colored the blue canvas. This sort of amazement was something that the ocean could never provide. The wonders this world held above the water, Hélène could not believe she was missing all of it.

“You’re awake…” Marya interjected.

“Yeah,” was Hélène’s response.

“How do you feel?”

“Better… And you?”

“Decent, I suppose.” Glancing over at Hélène, she chuckled and grinned to herself. “Close your mouth, mermaid, or you might end up swallowing a seagull.”

Hélène snapped her jaw shut and blinked. “The view up here… It’s beautiful.”

“I assume you’ve never been out of the water much,” Marya guessed.

“No, but I’ve been out several times. It was never enough for me to see things like this,” Hélène said as she gestured to the horizon.

“What a shame. There is so much one could see in the world,” Marya hummed then turned to look at her, smiling when she saw the coat on the other.

Hélène looked down at the coat where she had trailed Marya’s eyes and she made a squeak-like sound. “Would you like the coat back? It’s really comfortable but I’m sure you feel a little cold.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Keep it on if you like it. You deserve some comfort… Especially after how I treated you. And um… I apologize for that,” Marya whispered, looking away in shame.

“It’s okay. I understand… I forgive you.”

Seeing Marya so shameful was not something she had expected to see for she was always so proud. She always held her head high, stood with broadened shoulders and a straightened back but here, she was the complete opposite. Her head was tipped so that her eyes were on the floor, her shoulders were slackened and her back slouched over. Hélène lifted her head by her chin so that Marya was looking at her and she smiled at her warmly. The fuzziness that tingled inside of Marya brought a smile to her red lips and she took the mermaid’s hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. Hélène’s hand was not as cold as it was during the storm, her skin flush and warm within the oversized sleeve of her own coat.

“Thank you…” Marya moved away and pursed her lips. “May I ask why you’re here? Normally I don’t get visitors up here.”

“I came up here to thank you and to apologize,” Hélène murmured and clasped her hands.

“What for?”

“For looking after me after the storm and for troubling you… I did not realize how important this quest was to you and I was misspending your time. I’m truly sorry.”

Marya’s face fell subtly. “You’re welcome… Did Mary tell you?”

“Not everything. She only told me that someone close to you was dying and that you needed the Zhìyù because there isn’t a cure for tubbarculos or whatever it was,” Hélène blurted.

“Tuberculosis. That potion is my only hope to save my dear Natasha. My goddaughter.” Marya unclasped her hand, revealing a locket with a picture of both her goddaughters, Natasha and Sonya. “This one’s Natasha.” Marya hovered her thumb over Natasha who was smiling so broadly, it was enough to make the world open wide.

Hélène inched closer to Marya’s side, looking at the picture fondly. “She’s looks charming.”

“She is. She’s the loveliest, sweetest and most charming girl. She could make you smile with her giggles and child-like joy. Oh God, she is so pure. She was quite daring too. She wanted to be a pirate but her parents forbade her, and I don’t have the right to defy them,” Marya storied. “She brings me so much of joy.”

“Enchanting. She’s a rare kind,” Hélène chimed.

“Indeed. And now… I’m going to lose her.”

Hélène tutted. “You are not going to lose her. Have some faith! Some hope! That’s the attitude that will lead you to your success. I’m here to help you, captain, and I promise I will do all I can for Natasha.”

“You will?” Marya questioned, perplexed.

“For your happiness, yes. And also because I know that family is very important,” Hélène added.

Marya felt selfish at the mention of family. Hélène was here to help her save her own family, someone who was a complete stranger to her and what had she done for the mermaid? Throw her in a rotten cell, forced information out of her and took her away from her own family. Marya did not even offer Hélène anything in return for her willingness nor did she even reassure Hélène that she would be returning to her family at all. To speak of happiness, it only plunged Marya into fathomless humiliation for never had the thoughtfulness to check in on Hélène’s wellbeing. There were so many things wrong that she had done to Hélène, none of which should ever be forgiven for but Hélène did anyway.

“Do you miss your family, mermaid?” Marya inquired as she slipped the locket over her head, wearing the gold chain around her neck.

“Only my brother and my mother,” Hélène admitted without thought.

“What about your father?”

Hélène scoffed. “He’s hardly one. He’s more of a dictator. Nothing is more important to him than money and having one of the most powerful titles in our kingdom”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Hesitantly, Marya enveloped an arm around Hélène’s shoulders, half expecting her to flinch away or push her off but she did not. The mermaid leaned into her, flashing a grateful smile at the captain who felt heat creeping up to her cheeks.

“Don’t be. It isn’t your fault and it isn’t like you can do anything about it. If I go with it, listen to whatever that it is that he asks of me, I’ll be alright,” Hélène affirmed her, huddling a little closer to Marya. _Why did it feel so right?_

“Why don’t you leave? The ocean is so vast. It would be impossible for your father to find you if you run,” Marya suggested as though it were the easiest thing to do.

“Things are more complicating than you think, captain. As long as my father lives, I have no freedom, even if the ocean was so vast and wide. I cannot leave,” Hélène murmured dejectedly.

“I suppose I’ve stolen you out of the dark for a while,” Marya claimed, a slightly playful tease which lit up Hélène’s features. “From now on, I grant you the freedom that you deserve on this ship. If there is anything you need, you can come to me and I shall do my best to provide. Should anyone disturb you, come to me immediately. You’re my guest of honor now.”

“I”- Hélène pressed a hand against her chest over her fluttering heart as she gazed at Marya, flabbergasted. “Thank you. For my first request, I would very much like a hug to express my thanks!”

“Of course, my de”-

Marya had barely finished her sentence when Hélène squeezed her in a tight hug, the mermaid’s arms snaking around her neck while hers moved to hold her waist. Hélène burrowed her face into Marya’s neck and the warmth of her breath tickled her neck. Marya nestled in Hélène’s head of curls, the brunette locks soft against her cheek. The sea. That was what she smelled of, mixed in with a dash of roses and the very indistinct touch of herbs that came from her own coat. The scent was hypnotic. It clouded Marya’s mind with nothing but tranquility and pure delight. To see Hélène overjoyed, it brought her some happiness and it was very rare that someone else’s joy affected her own mood. Her lovely goddaughters had that effect on her and no one else. Then in came Hélène whose presence was enough to turn her solid composure into a pile of mush. It was strange how her feelings toyed with her. Marya always thought that she had full control over her emotions but this experience told otherwise.

No man or woman had ever made her feel this way. Not even her own husband who she had gotten rid off when he carelessly gambled away his own life with little money to pay up for his debts and the ones he gambled with came for his head. Quite literally. Sure, his death was saddening and Marya spared a tear during his funeral but it was the day she earned her freedom. That monster of a man was possibly the ticket to her demise and she had narrowly escaped his jaws several times. His carelessness was the reason she was out at sea and living her best life, but love never occurred to her as something to ponder about. Not after an awful marriage that shattered her. With Hélène, she felt conflicted. Marya once vowed that the only people she would ever love were her goddaughters and her crew but the mermaid just had to come trotting in with her beauty and charm.

As for Hélène, she was grateful for the thickness of the coat over her front for her heart was pounding so rapidly against her chest. She had never once acknowledged the fact that she was interested in those of the same gender for it was morally wrong to do so in her kingdom. It was something that was always tucked away in her heap of abandoned thoughts, never to be touched in a long time. She figured that her marriage with Pierre would purge the feeling but it only resurfaced stronger than ever. Being in the arms of a gorgeous woman, how could she simply discard it again like she had? She did not know what it was that drew her to Marya, despite the scorn she bore for her when she was thrown into the cell. That had already been forgiven and forgotten for Marya never had any ill intent to kill her. Hélène understood the situation entirely. Whatever the reason was, she could not tame her feelings anymore and her adoration for the captain sprouted as Marya showed her true colors. The kindness and care behind a stone-cold façade.

When they pulled away from the hug, both felt a little upset that it had to end but neither one knew that they shared a mutual agreement that it was too short to their liking. They exchanged smiles then looked towards the view before them, fingers carelessly, and perhaps purposefully, brushing against each other’s. Every time Hélène seen captured by the view, Marya would turn her head slightly to look at Hélène and take in the sight of her underneath the sun, in all of her glory. When Hélène turned to look at Marya, the redhead would avert her attention from Hélène coolly to look at the sea while Hélène took her time to admire Marya. The morning dragged on with ‘subtle’ staring and silly jokes shared between the women, the bond between them developing into one of fondness and prudence. Goodness knew how long they stayed up there. It was only when they arrived at a port that they descended, Marya helping Hélène until she was safe on the deck. Side by side, they dismounted the ship, chatting away while the crew followed in their trail.


	7. Born in the Blood

The port that they had stopped at was a cozy little village by the sea which was almost hidden by an overgrowth of tree shielding it from unwanted intruders or menacing pirates. It was only those who possessed the maps that dated back to when the village was still exposed that could locate the secluded place successfully. Marya was rather lucky to have found a map containing its location among the many journals she had scavenged for when she had begun her expedition for the cure. The hidden port was famous for its prized goods that were sold and traded to adventurers striving to achieve the impossible. Rumor had it that most of the goods were crafted by witches, made of the sacred and magical materials that mankind could not obtain, like the feather of a phoenix or the hair of a banshee. Many who have these goods had positive reviews to provide which only drew more attention to the port. As a result, they resorted to hiding away to save themselves from bandits and thieves or from leaders who wished to cheat their ways through wars using witchcraft. The hidden port stood by its morals, despite its popular usage of black magic and such, and it was one of the most peaceful places ever to exist.

In groups of three, the crew separated to hunt for the supplies that they required for the remainder of their voyage. Weapons suited for the untold horrors of the Asian seas where the cure laid hidden in its depths, food and water to last until they reached their destination and to the nearest port after, and most essentially, they needed to find books to provide a very needy Mary who was hungry for more knowledge about the foreign seas that they were headed for. Nothing thrilled the scholar more than new books filled with new information so she was the first to take off among everyone else. She dragged with her two other crew mates by the arms and disappeared into the crowd of the market place while everyone else discussed what to get so that they were on budget. The meeting was short and soon, the groups were off looking for what they were assigned to get in the large marketplace. As you have predicted, Hélène and Marya were in the same group, Marya proposing that it was best that the mermaid stayed with her because she could protect her from anything. No one protested, simply agreeing with their captain for the woman was capable of winning a fight without effort, and also because they did not suspect the budding relationship between their captain and the mermaid.

Luckily, the marketplace was organized into sections which made their search for supplies more efficient as they would not need to go scanning each and every stall there was. Assigned to obtaining little magical trinkets, Marya was grateful that she had Hélène whose fascination brought out the hidden scholar inside of her. She hopped from one store to another while Marya followed behind her like a parent chaperoning their child at a toy store. The captain was impressed by the mermaid’s very knowledge-filled rambling as they visited each store, Hélène pointing out the best and the worst items to get. With a tight budget, Hélène helped Marya shortlist the best out of everything they had seen, even listing out the extent of their uses to see which trinket could be utilized for future voyages and this one.

“This piece of bark right here comes from a moonflower tree,” Hélène explained as she picked up a dried brown clump with glove that had been offered to her from the vendor. “It might just be a bark but it’s one of the most hazardous materials to ever exist. If you touch it with bare hands, you could lose a hand or grow an extra limb. But if you touch the tree itself, it doesn’t do anything. The more grudges it holds, the more powerful it is!”

“Grudges? Does it have feelings?” Marya asked as she scrunched her nose.

“Trees are living creatures, of course they do,” Hélène said, returning the bark along with the glove. “You can tell by its weight. That one was quite light so it isn’t too dangerous.”

“Incredible.”

Hélène took Marya’s arm and dragged her to another stall with a buzzing excitement. “Oceanic equipment! Here are the things you need.”

“Oh?”

This particular store was more peculiar than the others. It had an array of tanks with various sea creatures and plants on display then a table where all sorts of equipment laid as an abundant spread. They were carved and crafted to perfection, one identical to the next according to their types, and there were so many to choose from. At the first glance, Marya would never have guessed their uses nor would she know the materials. There were daggers and spears, their blades a majestic shade of blue stones. Some were a deeper blue while some were a lighter but with different types, no two stones had the same color. As identical as they were, a different sort would always be a tad darker or lighter than the other. Some of the stones even glowed but Marya had no idea what it was that made them shine so brightly, even underneath the sun. Beside the weapon section were materials for brewing, crafting and collecting. The wildest items Marya had seen among the spread of blue rocks, shimmering gems and dried sea plants were jars housing the corpses of dead creatures with instructions attached on a string to the lid. It was somewhat astounding what one could do with a corpse but she did not wish to ponder about what these brewed goods tasted like. ‘ _Luck of the sea’, ‘underwater breath’._ It was a hard pass. The only thing that made sense to her were necklaces with a single charm. The one that was easiest to identify was a gold chain with a mermaid scale hanging from a silver hoop and on a string, a piece of paper had the words “ _Water senses_ ” written on it. Whatever that meant.

Hélène had her face pressed up against a tank, her hands on either side of her face as she studied a certain sea creature, a translucent octopus with patches of brown along its body and tentacles. The mermaid bent over in a funny angle, her bosom sticking up in the air as her body leaned over to the height of the tank. Marya stared at the creature, waiting for it to do something but it sat there motionless, occasionally breathing air bubbles that danced to the surface. There was a frown on Hélène’s face as she observed this animal and she mumbled against the glass reassuringly. At that, the octopus seemed to perk up and released a flurry of bubbles as though it were overjoyed at something that Hélène had said to her. Marya smiled and let out a soft laugh which caused Hélène to look up at her with the corners of her lips downwards so low, it was at its limit.

“Do you know what this is?” Hélène asked in a squeaky voice.

“An octopus,” Marya answered as if it were the most obvious thing ever. She was not wrong.

“He’s not just an octopus! He’s an Atlantic pygmy octopus,” Hélène corrected her then looked at the tank. “They are small but ferocious creatures. But he’s sad- Can we get him?”

“We’re here to get equipment, my dear, not pets,” Marya sighed but was startled when the octopus jolted upwards at the word ‘pets’.

Hélène tutted softly. “Look. You’ve offended him. Captain, he’ll be worth your money, I promise! He won’t be a pet but a friend.”

“Mermaid”-

“Please?” Hélène looked up at Marya with pleading eyes. Those large and beautiful brown hues bearing into Marya’s deep grey ones. The captain almost shuddered. How could she ever say no?

“Promise me you’ll take good care of him and make sure that he’s happy?” Marya questioned as she dug through her purse.

“I promise!”

Marya made her purchase and paid for the freedom of Hélène’s new friend who was presented to her in a tank smaller than the one he had been displayed in. Almost too eagerly, Hélène took the tank in her arm and hugged it to her chest protectively with the broadest grin. This was the first time she had ever seen Hélène so happy, the joy on her face so prodigious that it made Marya smile wider. Even the octopus seemed jovial with its new friend. It stuck to the side of the tank where Hélène’s hand was, wriggling as if he were nuzzling into the warmth that he could feel from her palm.

“What should we name him?” Hélène squealed as she looked at Marya.

“That’s up to you, my dear. He’s your friend after all,” Marya insisted as she watched the octopus float about in his tank.

Hélène hummed in thought. “Martyosha?”

Marya made a face. “Isn’t that a little too human for an octopus?”

“What about Fox?”

“I hope you are aware that we have a land creature called a ‘fox’. It wouldn’t make a bit of sense.”

“Aw, okay… Marta?”

“I have a crew member whose name is Marta… It would be rather odd. And the octopus is a male so, I would recommend reconsidering that name.”

“Kat? Or Ky?”

“They’re adorable but not for an octopus.”

“Rowan!”

Marya rubbed her forehead. “How on earth are you guessing the names of my crew members while searching for a name for an octopus? Should I be concerned?”

“I just think they have unique and beautiful names,” Hélène admitted as she lifted the tank, laughing to herself.

“They’ll be pleased to hear.”

“What about Svob?”

“Svob?”

“Short for Svoboda. It means ‘freedom’ in several Slavic languages. How about that one?”

“Perfect.”

“Svob it is!” Hélène exclaimed.

“Now, mermaid, we must continue to find what we need. No more silliness, is that understood?” Marya justified as she evaluated the trinkets.

“Yes, captain,” Hélène affirmed.

All seriousness returned to Hélène as she studied the items that Marya had her eyes on and Svob mirrored her, tentacles glued to the front of the tank as his own eyes trailed those of his new friends. Hélène spoke to him in a hushed voice but if she could not hear him, she would submerge her one side of head into opening of the tank where her ear was. Anyone who saw her dipping her head into the water thought that she was insane and would shoot her looks. If they had known that she was a mermaid, it would have been understandable but it was vital to keep her identity a secret. The nightgown that she had donned helped cover the scales on her legs so Marya had little to worry about anyone discovering that she was walking with a mermaid. Those who stared at Hélène’s strange behavior were met with Marya’s glare and the piercing gaze was enough to burn holes into their head so they looked no longer than Marya would have liked. The captain listened to Hélène talk and even though she was not part of their private conversation, Hélène would tell her whatever it was that Svob was telling her. Apparently, he was quite the joker and Marya did chuckle at a few jokes.

With some goods in her arms, Marya felt satisfied with her find. According to Hélène’s so-called statistic, they had all that they needed to survive the rest of their voyage and that what they had gotten would last Marya a lifetime. Marya had gotten herself an aquamarine glow-stone; its name is quite self-explanatory. The catch was that it could only in water and despite its size being as large as Marya’s palm, it was enough to cover even the darkest ends of the sea with light that was not harmful to one’s eyes. Another thing she had gotten for the voyage was a seashell with a spell of sharpness that allowed her to fight with a weapon underwater without difficulty. Even if the current was strong, the blade of her sword was guaranteed to slice through the water like paper. It hung from the handle of her sword, jangling at her side and Marya would grasp it within her hands to fumble with. Everything else, they were for emergency uses. Potions, extra material for weapons and some food of Svob’s picking. With everything, they headed back to the ship to store everything so that they could lounge in a nearby bar before setting off. While Marya tended to the storage room, Hélène spent most of her time decorating Svob’s tank to his liking. The octopus’s home was on Marya’s desk, the mermaid having made space by rearranging some of Marya belongings, with her permission.

When work was done, Marya went to get Hélène who was giving Svob’s home some final touches. With an extended hand, Hélène took Marya’s offered hand and the captain ushered her out of her chambers and towards the dock. The crew had already selected a place for their relaxation. A peaceful old dinner bar just by the docks, along a row of shops that were closed for the day. Marya and Hélène walked alongside one another, having released their hands but their fingers brushed in feather touches. They remained stoic; heads held high but they struggled to maintain such composure. It was only for a split second that their fingers intertwined, but untangled when they entered the bar, subtle smiles upon their lips.

* * *

The crew members had divided themselves into their own groups, seated at tables that were nearby so that they could still speak to each other without having to raise their voices. They had segregated themselves accordingly to those who wanted to drink and those who did not want to so that no one was uncomfortable. Marya and Hélène sat across from one another, in the middle of the groups for it was only proper that it was their captain who established the division between them. The mermaid, their guest of honor, was to be treated with the same amount of respect that they showed their captain and they did. Aside from respect, some of the crew members did not bother masking up their fascination in Hélène, even scooting closer to make conversation with her. Those by Marya’s leaned in closer until their captain was squished in between but she did not mind it. Her only requests were that they did not rock the bench in excitement and that there was at least some space for her to move her arms so that she could eat her dinner. As the crew learnt more about Hélène, Hélène too got to learn more about them as individuals and how close they were to their captain. This little crew became more of a family the more Hélène watched the captain interact with her comrades and it was a wonderful thing to see. What was astonishing was that most of the crew members were young people, around what Hélène estimated to be Natasha’s age based on the picture she had seen of the captain’s goddaughter.

They were not as menacing as they had seemed to be when Hélène first met them. The ladies, the lads, these comrades, they were genuinely lovely people to talk to and their curiosity was the most entertaining thing to Hélène at the moment. The mermaid would take the questions graciously but would sometimes throw her head back in laughter at some ridiculous but common questions. The crew and the captain laughed with her as well, though Marya’s laughter would come in small chuckles and sharp exhales through her nose while the rest of the crew was more outwardly expressive of their appreciation for humor.

“How do you sleep? Do you have beds or do you just float in the water and sleep?” one had asked which sent Hélène in a fit of laughter at the image of it in her head.

“No, ma chere! We do have beds, pillows and blankets. Just like you humans but they’re made out of material that we find underwater. We have more control in water than you think. Unlike humans, we can weigh ourselves to the ground at our own will”- Hélène stopped to let out a laugh- “We don’t have the buoyancy to just float around like humans do. We could if we wanted to though but it isn’t exactly the most advisable thing.”

“Is it because you can float out of the window with the current?” another prodded.

“Yes! It’s happened before. Numerous times,” Hélène answered with a giggle.

“Awesome!”

When night fell, the dinner bar sparked to life. People came pouring in for drinks, merchants, sailors and villagers alike. Everyone mingled and socialized but the crew of the Moscow stuck to themselves, politely declining offers to join the other groups that were littered in the bar. The noise of the crowd was minimal which was a quite a surprise considering how packed the place was, and Marya noticed how visibly uncomfortable Hélène was to be the only creature out of a sea of humans. The mermaid had brought her knees to her chest, tugging at the ends of her nightgown to keep her inhuman legs underneath the article of clothing so that she would not expose herself. As friendly as the faces were in the dinner bar, one could never be too sure of the real person behind the happy chatter and kind smiles. Stepping on the ends of her nightgown to keep it from hiking up any further than her ankles, Hélène hugged Marya’s coat around her and cowered into the oversized collar. Her eyes darted from one human to another, watchful for any beady eyes whose interests were peaked by her presence. If it was not her identity that was drawing attention, it was the way she dressed. Who would wear a nightgown out to a dinner bar? And if it was not the clothes, it was her beauty. Like Marya, it was incredibly challenging to not stare at the mermaid for her beauty was absolutely captivating.

Leaning in, Marya whispered to one of the crew members, one of the younger girls who had been chatting away about having seen other kinds of mythical creatures as a child. The girl paused her conversation to listen to her captain and her face hardened before she gave a firm nod. She hopped off the bench and beckoned the other girls to follow her with a look and a wave of a hand. The others followed suite, pushing their empty plates away and some chugging the last of the contents of their cups.

“Come on, Hélène! We can’t have you dressed in a frock like that in public. Since you haven’t got any clothes for the rest of the voyage, we can get you some,” the one who Marya had spoken to beamed.

“I haven’t got any money,” Hélène mumbled diffidently.

“We never said you were paying,” one of the other girls interjected as she helped Hélène out of her seat. “Come! You can get whatever you want.”

“But I”- Hélène looked at Marya for some sort of approval and the redhead nodded.

“I’m leaving the girls in charge so if there is anything else that catches your eye, just inform them and they will have it covered,” Marya added as she shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth.

“Thank you”-

The thanks barely made it to Marya ears for Hélène was already whisked away by the girls, a swish of her nightgown flapping behind her bare feet as she made her way out of the door. Mary took this chance to scoot to Marya’s side where the seats were vacant as a majority of the girls had gone to accompany Hélène to the clothes shops just along the same row of shops where the dinner bar was situated. Marya’s eyes lingered at the door and she spooned air into her mouth, her mind having followed the mermaid out of the door Mary propped her head up on her hand, her elbow on a new book on the table. A love stricken Marya was something Mary would never have thought to ever see in her life but it was nice to see her captain and friend so happy to be around someone. Maybe just a little too happy.

“What does air taste like? Like love I assume,” Mary questioned bluntly as she pushed Marya’s empty plate out of the way.

“Oh hush,” Marya hissed as she dropped her spoon onto the plate.

“You needn’t hide it, Marya. I know that look anywhere,” Mary claimed with a timid giggle.

“Do you really?” Marya asked with narrowed eyes.

“I-I’ve seen that look in Sonya’s eyes… When we would lie down in bed and do nothing, she gazes at me with the same look. It’s so full of love and fondness. She’s admitted that she doesn’t realize that she does it. L-love. It works its magic on you,” Mary continued.

“Mary, I hired you to be my scholar to study the seven seas, not about love,” Marya scolded but Mary scoffed at her.

“Why do you want to hide it? What are you so afraid of?” Mary groaned as she threw her hands in the air dramatically.

Marya lowered her head slightly and, in a low voice, responded. “I’ve hurt her, Mary. Deep down, I’m sure she despises me. Who in their right mind would requite the love of someone who was harsh to her?”

“But she’s forgiven you, has she not?” Mary debated. “I don’t see her scowling at you in hatred or plotting against you.”

“She could be secretive about it. Maybe she’s only cooperating just to get back to her family safely. I’m a threat to her as are all humans,” Marya disposed pointedly.

“During the night of the storm, she could have left us to die! But she chose to sTay. Doesn’t that speak volumes to you?”

“I”-

“You’re scared, Marya. And if this is about your reputation as a captain too, I swear, I will have Sonya and Natasha nag you about this when we return. They would want you to be happy and I do too,” Mary stressed as she squeezed her hands together. “Why won’t you allow it this once?”

“You’re right, Mary, I am scared. But it will go away eventually. It always will,” Marya assured herself more than she was telling Mary.

“The fear or the love?”

“Both.”

“But, Marya…”

Marya brought a finger to her lips to silence her. “My focus is on getting the cure to save my goddaughter, not change my relationship status. My happiness is at stake and it lies in Natasha’s dying hands. Life cannot be replaced but love can be. I would appreciate if you did not come prying into my love life.”

“Always the family loving one, aren’t you, Akhrosimova?” a voice intruded; man’s.

Spinning around in her seat, Marya came face-to-face with a very familiar face. One she had not seen in a very long time and, God, how she wished she could punch that grin off of his face. “Fyodor Dolokhov… What a _delight_ it is to see you.”

“Likewise.”

Captain Fyodor Dolokhov, was a captain of his own ship, the Zhestokiy. Unlike Marya who was well-known for doing good deeds for others as a pirate, Dolokhov was infamous for gambling people’s fortune away with his ‘extremely lucky’ hand at childish card games and slaying those who he deemed his enemy or threat. He was a menace, he reeked of death and misfortune that emitted from him in the scent of metal from the numerous chains he decorated himself in and perfume that was most likely nicked from a careless stall vendor. His gun, a simple pistol, dangled by his exposed side and his hand hovered beside it. Marya was not afraid of him neither was he afraid of her. In contrast to Marya’s crimson, Dolokhov donned a shadow charcoal grey coat, thrown over an iron grey vest and white crisp shirt. His pants matched the color of his vest, only slightly darker than the shade of iron and the cuffs of his pants were tucked messily into his shaft-length boots that were as dark as night. Underneath the man’s eyes was a thick layer of what he liked to call ‘guyliner’, and it underlined the lower rim of his eyes. Marya never understood his fashion but somehow, the eyeliner always suited the aesthetic. She would give him that. He was a monochrome figure, the perfect enemy to captain who was accessorized in shades of red for either of them were prowlers in each other’s territory.

Green and grey hues glowered and the tension in the air grew dense. Without words, the quiet battle between the two captains was enough to hush the entire dinner bar, and Mary skittered away from the scene to sit beside a fellow crew member. Dolokhov’s crew stood up from where they had sat among the patrons, scattered from mingling until they acknowledged that their captain was in potential danger. Dolokhov did not seem intimidated and he smiled at Marya. It was not a cordial one and there was something sinister behind it. Marya stood up to level his height, straightening her back for some extra height that made her tower over him by an inch. Like Dolokhov’s positioned hand, her own mimicked his, hovering over the handle of her sword.

“What can I do for you?” Marya inquired, dipping her head slightly to meet his eyes.

Dolokhov’s smile morphed into a grin. “I heard word on the street that you’re seeking for something priceless. Something that no one has ever gotten close to locating. What was it? Ah- The ZhiYu… It’s extraordinary how your timid church mouse did it.”

“Church mouse? I”-

“The way you pronounce it is so wrong, it disgusts my ears. Now, Dolokhov, you shall not interfere with my business and I with yours. Stick your nose into someone else’s business. Your foolery does not amuse me,” Marya retorted.

“I was not asking and I don’t believe you have the power to command me around,” Dolokhov chirped as he whipped his gun out, swinging it around by a finger. “We could always do it the peaceful way. No one gets hurt and we’ll be on our way.”

“It’s so bold of you to assume that I would just give it to you when you know that you don’t hold any power that is even just slightly above me. We are the same,” she asserted.

“A duel it is then.”

Dolokhov brandished his gun with pride and Marya accepted a gun gracefully from a crew member of hers. She was never one for guns and would only use one when she wanted to get a job done quickly or when it was mandatory. She unbuckled the belt of the holster of her sword, handing the weapon to Mary who clutched to it as though it were a doll. The patrons made way for the adversaries, creating a space large enough for them to walk to the opposite ends that were fairly distanced. The owner of the diner stood on the countertop of the bar with his hands clasped on either side of his mouth to commentate the duel and host it formerly.

“As the adversaries have refused a reconciliation, we shall please proceed with the duel. Now, ready your pistols and at the count of three, begin to advance!” the owner announced.

“ ** _Raz, Dva, Tri_**!”

And the duel commenced. Marya and Dolokhov made their move, their guns aimed at their targets but they did not shoot yet. Dolokhov had one eye shut as he adjusted his arm, ensuring that he had a good aim at Marya’s head or chest. Wherever it was that he shot, he was sure that she would not survive for he had laced his bullets in the venom of a king cobra. His ‘lucky hand’ always had tricks up its sleeve and this was one of many he had in store for anyone who dared to stand in his way. His index finger glazed the worn trigger, a laugh bubbling up inside his chest but he waited, creating a painful anticipation among the audience.

Marya, on the other hand, was not too willing to kill her opponent. She had her gun pointed at his shoulder which would be enough to immobilize his arm for a whole week or more if it was not treated properly. For Natasha, she would do this stupid duel. If she had just ran back to the ship and sailed away to get the cure before Dolokhov would, her head would have an expensive bounty along with her hard-earned treasure. It was better to take a great leap rather than beat around the bush and fall into its thorns. Sweat trickled upon her brow as she focused intensely on her aim and she fretted among other frustrating thoughts. Distracted, her ears rang and gasps filled the room when a gun was fired. It was not her gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't we all love a little bit of suspense? :)


	8. Haven't You Noticed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a week? :0  
> Yeah. I had a lot of motivation this week. The next update might be slow because of college so please be patient with me!  
> If you wanna scream about these bbys, feel free to find me on tumblr at @irreplaceable-ecstacyy

She had expected the pain to come or the faint feeling when one was about to fall at Death’s feet. Black spots clouded her vision and the blood that rushed in her ears did nothing to stop the ringing. She examined herself for a pool of blood that was supposed to soak her clothes where Dolokhov had shot her but there was nothing there. Her clothes were as perfect as they were, untouched and ironed to optimum smoothness. She looked around her for the possible victim of the bullet but everyone was unharmed by the missing ball of metal. The eyes of the audience were fixated on her opponent, heads turned to whisper to the person next to them, whether they were acquaintances or not. Some children were pointing fingers and laughing at whatever it was they found funny to look at, and it seemed that no one was concerned about the whereabouts of the lost bullet. Did Dolokhov’s gun malfunction or was this some sick joke of his to scare her out of her wits? Either way, she was furious, almost literally puffing smoke out of her nostrils like a dragon would.

She stomped on her heel and turned to look at Dolokhov, or where she had last seen him. The door that exited the dinner bar was wide open but there stood the girls she had sent off to escort Hélène to get some clothes. They barricaded the doorway and their eyes too were trained on something funny, and they were snorting and giggling away like the children were. The adults were not as entertained as the children or her crew members but a cheeky glint shone in their eyes as they stared at the scene before them. Finally, Marya’s eyes scowled at the floor where Dolokhov laid flat on his face, his legs flaying all over the place in a frantic struggle. On top of him sat Hélène who wrestled the gun out of his hand to disarm him and the longer this went on, the laughter rose into howls and the children were slapping their knees in sheer joy. But the joy vanished when Hélène successfully pried the gun out of Dolokhov’s hand and now had it pressed to the back of his head with an anger Marya had never seen before.

A part of the floorboards was charred, a hole burnt through the floor from where his bullet had lunged for instead. The blackened surface was rimmed by green, a sort of chemical reaction when wood would touch poison, decaying it into something soft and useless. A cheater. If he had managed to hit her with a single bullet, he would have won anyway for the poison would have entered her system to finish the job for him. She assumed it was what drove Hélène to such a temper, that a man would stoop so low to cheat his way out of the duel to win himself a trip to the cure that Marya had spent far too long to find (but kudos to Mary for shortening the search). However, she could not be too sure about the mermaid’s intentions for she was still a stranger to her.

“How dare you duel with poison-laced ammo, cheater?” Hélène spat, a growl rumbling low in her throat. “You’re a dishonorable wench of a thing.”

“That’s a pirate’s life for you, milady,” Dolokhov breathed, his words muffled for his cheek was smushed up against the floorboards. “Don’t play with a gun, sweetheart, if you don’t know how to play with one.”

“Why is it that I always get the same remarks?” Hélène complained as she cocked the gun. “If I can play with a sword, a gun should not be any tougher.”

Dolokhov went quiet for a moment and Hélène sat on his back rather nervously as she anticipated a response. With the eyes of every diner on her, she felt vulnerable but she kept the gun glued to the back of Dolokhov’s head, buffering out her self-consciousness from tickling her. Marya disliked the silence for Dolokhov was always the chatty sort. He could be scheming or worse, he might have another gun stashed in the hidden compartments of his coat. A cheater always had backup plans when one was to go the wrong way. He was not a daft man. Moscow’s crew members were ready and Marya’s hand was already gripping the handle of her sword. One false move and Dolokhov would lose an eye. He did nothing hostile nor did he show any indication that he was going to do anything out of the blue but there was an inquisitiveness in his eyes, almost surprised by something which was a drastic shift in mood.

“Lena, is that you?” he asked as he craned his head slightly over his shoulder to look at the weight on his back.

Hélène gawked at him then pulled him by the shoulder to have a look at his face. “Fedya! My goodness, I did not recognize you!”

“It’s so wonderful to see you, love!” Fedya trilled and the elation in his voice was very much genuine compared to the greeting he had given to Marya.

Clambering off of Dolokhov, the man sat up and embraced Hélène who threw her arms around his neck with a radiant smile. The gun laid forgotten on the ground beside Hélène’s leg and someone stepped in to swoop the weapon into their hands before any of the children had the chance to get their eager grabby hands on it. Seeing the reunion between old friends, the crowd dispersed and returned to their dinners and gossips but both pirate crews stood by their captains, unsure of what to do. The Zhestokiy’s crew were muddled, not used to seeing their captain so affectionate towards another. They exchanged glances and shrugs while they waited for the long embrace to stop and both of them helped each other up in a fit of giggles.

Marya did not know how to process this information but what she knew was that there was an ugly feeling stirring inside of her. A feeling that has never churned into creation. Jealousy. It tasted bitter and she hated it. Her crew had unhanded her weapons but her own hand remained tight around the holder of her sword until her knuckles were white, fingers coloring purple from a lack of blood circulation. Dolokhov had an arm around Hélène’s waist who was leaning into his side with the most adorable grin on her face. The hand on her side grasped her gently, fingers brushing and tracing shapes along the new white high-collared blouse she had gotten, underneath her crimson coat that she still wore persistently. Dear lord, Marya had only just noticed her change of outfit and it was all that she could gape at.

Hélène had her hair done up in bun with a braid wrapped around it and a red rose clipped to it. The red rose was the only accessory she wore and she was free of the glitter of jewelry. Not that she needed it to enhance how entirely gorgeous she was. Having discarded the nightgown, it was replaced with proper feminine clothes. Aside from the fitting white high-collared blouse and the crimson coat, it was paired with an ankle-length emerald prairie skirt that flowed like the ocean with every little movement. It swished and swayed at her feet, laced ends patterned with florals and swirls that caressed her glossy black mid-calf boots. The red and green made a weird combination but Hélène, it worked right. How was it that this mermaid could pull off any kinds of clothes? A nightgown had never looked better on someone and now that Hélène was clothed properly, she looked majestic, and dare Marya say ‘godly’.

“Hm~ Someone’s ogling over you, Lena,” Dolokhov pointed out.

“Really, who?” Hélène questioned dumbly, only to save Marya’s dignity.

“I see you know Captain Dolokhov,” Marya cleared her throat.

“We’re old friends. He’s a close friend of my brother’s and my brother introduced him to me at a party on his ship, the Zhestokiy. I haven’t seen him in years!” Hélène exclaimed as she kissed his cheek.

“And you’re just friends?” Marya continued.

“Like she said, we’re old friends,” Dolokhov replied with a smirk. “Nothing more.”

“When old or just comes before the word friends, you know it ain’t it, captain,” one of her girls whispered to her.

“Especially if it’s coming from him,” another jabbed. “We ought to be careful, otherwise he’ll take Hélène away from us.”

“Enough, ladies. She is not our property,” Marya hissed under her breath, loud enough for the chatterboxes to hear. “It would be preposterous of us to objectify a, clearly, independent person such as her. And if we are to treat her like one, it would be disrespectful.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” they uttered in sync and stepped away from her.

Dolokhov sighed, almost disappointed, but he chuckled. “You got lucky today, Akrhosimova, for I would never hurt a friend of Lena’s.”

“How very noble of you,” Marya excused with a slight roll of her eyes. “But I thank you.”

“Words I never thought I’d hear from you,” Dolokhov teased as he bowed his head. “You’re welcome~ My fellow lads, come, let us wage no more wars with the Moscow. This shall be our peacemaking. Let all hatred and scorn wash away and we shall start anew. How about that, Captain Akhrosimova?”

“Shocking… but I like it, Captain Dolokhov,” Marya spoke as she grasped his outstretched hand in a firm handshake. “May we be peaceful.” They did not need to be friends to be peaceful and as pirates, no matter how rebellious, they would keep to their word.

Dolokhov was always so full of surprises. As reputable as he was as a cunning and devious man, he was truly a man of honor, to some extent. When he made promises, he would keep to them and like Marya, he treasured the bonds he formed with others and would stop at nothing to protect the ones he cared about. He was a marvelous actor when it came to putting on a brutish performance to ward off his enemies or people in general that he disliked. In front of his allies, he need not turn fake. After the declaration of harmony with the Moscow’s own captain, it was the fusion of two of the greatest pirate crews to ever exist, and the power in their hands was impeccable.

The two crews blended into one in the dinner bar, familiarizing themselves with their newest allies and even befriending them to mold something stronger. Those who had similar skills or interests chatted away with an explosive joy, excited to have someone to speak to about something they shared in common. They exchanged knowledge and provided their wisdom when the other did not know a certain thing. Some even began to trade spare tools and materials as a token of their newly found friendship. Mary found that Dolokhov’s crew had a scholar and they exited the deafening dinner bar to have a hushed conversation to themselves, not wishing to waste another second storing and bottling up their knowledge. With their brains combined, the could write a series of encyclopedias together, one volume after another and goodness knew how many books it would take to cover every mile of information they had accumulated in their intelligent minds.

Marya took her leave, retiring early to her study to attend to some journaling and reading when Dolokhov offered to buy her a drink. It had been kind of him to turn over a new leaf but she was far too exhausted and afflicted to indulge in the fun. Even if she tried, she would subconsciously wander to the nastiest part of herself, where self-consciousness lured her into hurt and disgust. It scratched and prowled, and Marya had to be wary of accidentally letting the beast go. The short talk that she had with Mary about love, before Dolokhov interrupted them, it echoed in her ears, screamed over the waves that crashed against the port. She could be hearing things, the cries being deceitful as they wailed over the noises around her. The wind, the creak of the ship, the waves. Love. This was what love was doing to her. ‘It works its magic on you’. Magic or curse? Marya had seen the way Hélène interacted with Dolokhov, how their hands were magnetized onto each other’s bodies. It made her chest tighten. Love was a pretty thing but along with it came the most hideous feelings like jealousy; magic that came with a price.

* * *

The crew members had returned to their ships but not accordingly to where their loyalty laid. On the Zhestokiy, the men and women gathered in a circle to gamble, passing around a generous bottle of vodka around as they played. They played with money but with strict rules and a quota on the amount they were allowed to throw onto the table to avoid any sort of childish dispute. On the Moscow, the girls retrieved their stashed gramophone from their sleeping quarters below the deck and placed it on the stairs that led to the platform where the steering wheel was. A boy from the Zhestokiy’s crew sat beside the device to wind its crank while everyone else partnered up for a jolly dance. Some of the girls danced in a small group of three while some of them found themselves a gentleman to dance with. They spun, swooped, leapt and sang energetically, the song a familiar tune that was trending a month ago in their hometowns.

Hélène and Dolokhov, who had left the dinner bar arm-in-arm after an hour or two, sat at the edge of the docks with their feet dangling over the water. Hélène watched the girls dance, sometimes cheering on them whenever they did a spectacular move and Dolokhov kicked at the water with the tip of his boots. He observed the lively dances, humming to the music that played. He knew every song, every melody that sounded from the gramophone but Hélène knew nothing of these things. The only sources of music that she had came from live bands or seashells that carried the sounds of the waves in a funny hollow echo when it was brought to her ears. The music from up above the water was foreign to her and she swayed along to the beat from where she sat. Her mind went from the dancing to the girls then to the captain locked up in her study, missing out the fun over a very obvious reason.

“I’ve never seen that woman jealous,” Dolokhov stated. “To be frank, I was never aware that she had feelings.”

“Don’t be absurd, Fedya. Everyone has feelings but some people would rather be introverted,” Hélène said as she nudged his side.

“True but Marya D. and jealousy are two words I’ve never used in a sentence. This is a first,” Dolokhov chortled.

“Did you see that way she was staring at you?” Hélène queried and laughed lightly.

“I did! She looked like she wanted to rip my throat out. The way her eyes studied you then my hands. It’s hilarious!” he hollered. “She is lovestruck!”

“She really is! …Yeah…” Hélène wavered off and she looked at her hand, at the cold wedding band that stung against her warm skin.

Dolokhov took notice and he held her hand in his. “Lena?”

“Yes?”

“Do you love her?”

Hélène gnawed on the insides of her cheeks and twisted the ring with her thumb. She knew how wrong it was to love someone else when she belonged to another and she did not wish to hurt Pierre by admitting that she was, in fact, in love with Marya. A relationship with someone of the same sex was also looked down upon by creatures of all sorts. Humans, mermaids, centaurs, you name it. This would endanger her as well as Marya and she did not wish for any misfortune on them, not while they were on a pursuit for something more important than emotions. Her grip tightened on Dolokhov’s hand and she turned away to look at the water beneath her feet. How it tugged at her. A painful reminder that she had a life to return to once it was all over. How could she face Pierre or her parents? While they were probably panicking their heads off, she was having the adventure of a lifetime.

“I think I like her,” Hélène lilted.

Dolokhov grumbled. “Like isn’t your word, Lena. We both know what that means.”

Hélène spluttered. “I hate the way you read through me. I can’t love another, Fedya. I’m betrothed to another and she’s a woman. A human! It’s wrong.”

“When did something lawfully wrong ever stop you?” Dolokhov interjected as he leaned back, supporting himself up by his arms. “So what if the world is against you? In the end, you get your happiness. Isn’t that what you’ve been searching for?”

“What about Pierre? He would be upset,” Hélène debated.

“He will understand. He reads books on philosophy, doesn’t he? He, of all people, should sympathize with you and I’m sure he’s on his own search for happiness. Don’t give this one up because of your fears. You let your fears consume you, you’re done for,” Dolokhov adviced, using a voice he was not so used to.

“Are you sure?”

“It worked with your brother and I. I don’t see why it wouldn’t with you.”

“Then I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl! Now, go get your woman!”

Hélène and Dolokhov hugged, and it lasted for a while. It was wonderful to see a friendly face through the length of her journey for she had been deprived of that for so long. She had been getting used to the faces around her on the Moscow but nothing felt quite like crossing paths with someone she called an old friend. She kissed his cheek as a farewell gift and he returned it with a compass made of the most stunning lapis lazuli, not that she knew what the contraption was. She took it in her hands with care, digits running over the polished item while Dolokhov explained its uses to her. Since he had no business with the cure, it was better to pass something helpful over to someone who needed it more and seeing how determined Hélène was, he knew he bequeathed it to the right person. Her dedication to a voyage that had nothing to do with her amazed him but as long as she was happy, he would not pry or ruin anything for her or Marya.

“This compass only works underwater, specifically in the waters where the cure lays. It has to be the right temperature, right amount of light and other fussy factors. You get what I mean. When the requirements are fulfilled, the arrow will point to the cure. Keep in mind, it’s pretty dark down there.”

With her final thanks and another hug, Hélène jogged back to the Moscow and Dolokhov to the Zhestokiy. The dance went on but slower. A slow and calming melody played from the thingamajig and a girl had switched with the boy Hélène had seen cranking it up. The dance pairs had their arms wrapped around each other in a delicate hold and they whispered like couples. She greeted them as she walked along the side of the dancefloor and towards her destination which was the captain’s dimly lit study. Some tried to wave her over for a dance, girls and boys wanting to dance with the unskilled mermaid but she declined with the excuse that she had to see the captain. Clutching the compass, Hélène knocked on the door and awaited a response.

“Come in.”

And Hélène obeyed. She opened the door, stepped inside then closed the door behind her. A lantern radiated both heat and light enough to accommodate the captain’s need for comfort at her study desk. In her wooden chair, she still wore the same clothes but she had untied her red curls of hair, letting them cascade down her right shoulder. Judging by how her frizzed her hair was, with some curls sticking out here and there, the woman was evidently stressed out by something and that ‘something’ was not the work she looked busied with. Her hands were stained in ink from clumsiness but her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows where they were safe from stains that were difficult to wash of. Upon her nose, she wore glasses with a thin black frame made of metal and it was seated near the tip of her nose where it was the perfect angle for her to read with her back straightened instead of an uncomfortable brooding posture. Marya pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as she looked up at Hélène, her pen-holding hand seizing.

“Already done with your reunion with Captain Dolokhov?” Marya inquired.

“Yes, and he bears a gift,” Hélène answered as she placed the compass on her study.

“So soon, and this is very kind of him. Unfortunately, I cannot send my thanks but he has my favor,” Marya murmured as she picked up the compass to study it and it was when Hélène relayed what Dolokhov told her about it. “He is an ambiguous man.”

“You’d be surprised,” Hélène remarked. Her eyes went to the undiscerned figures that travelled in and out of the window frames, observing the slow dance with interest. “Why don’t you join them? Relax for a bit.”

“I’d rather not,” Marya muttered.

“But why?”

“Because I have no time for leisure.”

“That’s a lie.”

A beat. “How can you be so certain?”

“Unless you speak gibberish, I don’t think your doodles make any sense. Is that supposed to be a fish?” Hélène pointed at one of the drawings of what looked like an 'o' conjoined with a triangle on the crumpled parchment paper. 

Marya snatched the parchment away from Hélène's sight and huffed. "It was an attempt."

"You're missing out, love..."

At the term of endearment, Marya deflated in her seat and felt her breath hitch in her throat. "What can I possibly be missing out from some dance?"

"The experience." Hélène walked to the middle of the room and curtseyed in her prairie skirt, dipping gracefully. "May I have this dance, captain?"

Standing up, Marya moved from her desk to stand in front of Hélène, then bowed. "Of course, mermaid."

Hélène took the stance of the woman in the dance, a hand resting on Marya's shoulder and the other clasped in her hand. Marya took the stance of the man, a hand on the curve of Hélène's slender waist and the other holding her vacant one. On three counts, they let the music sweep them into its arms; the tempo their lead and the melody, their strings that directed their movements. Marya stepped cautiously but did not have to look down to evade Hélène's feet. She was surprisingly talented at the dance, despite having stated that she was not big on leisure. As one moved, the other mirrored and they became one as a whole. Hélène was not too skillful with her steps but with Marya in the lead, it came to her naturally and she was bewitched by Marya who looked at her with a fond but smug smile. 

"I didn't know you could dance," Hélène hummed as she twirled. 

"You didn't ask." Marya winked at her as she lowered Hélène into a dip, the hand on her waist sliding to her back to hold her up. 

"Perhaps I underestimated you," Hélène admitted as she swooped back up smoothly. "Did you have practice with one of your crew mates or maybe furniture?"

Marya clicked her tongue. "Before I became a pirate, I was married to a nobleman. He would take me to soirees and lavish parties where I had to learn every dance in our culture."

"You were married?" 

"Is that so shocking?" 

"No! Not at all! A woman as beautiful as you are, I don't doubt it." It slipped from her lips and she could not retract it but Marya did not seem affected by the compliment. 

"I used to hate it. Dancing always brought me the most horrid memories of him," Marya continued as she guided Hélène through the dance. 

Hélène frowned lightly. "Did you not love him?"

"No. I despised him. I wanted nothing more than to flee but my parents always had a watchful eye, and so did my husband. He wasn't warm or kind. His only passion was gambling and drinking, and when he would have a fit, I'd become his victim," Marya storied. 

"That is dreadful. I am so sorry... What's become of him?"

"Dead. His gambling debts piled up so high, it came topping over him. I didn't mourn for him or sought revenge from his debt collectors."

"Serves him right. Here you are, thriving as a free woman."

"Nothing has ever tasted sweeter."

The music faded to an end and soon the dance too. Both of them stood in the middle of the room, the spot where they had began their dance, but they did not let go of each other. Hélène's hands pulled Marya into an embrace, arms enveloping her neck and Marya hugged her waist loosely. The taller woman nuzzled against the smaller one's shoulder, contented with where she was. Hélène combed her hands through Marya's hair, untangling the knotted ends and smoothing out the ends that stuck out funny. She could feel Marya trembling in her hold, her walls tumbling down bit by bit as she opened herself up more to the mermaid. After that story, Hélène understood more about Marya and her character, and she appreciated that she confided in her such a story. Hélène knew she could never return the deed with her own story for she feared that the woman would cast her away and turn cruel on her again. Even with the puzzle pieces that Marya had given to Hélène about her life, from her goddaughters to her former husband, the mermaid could never figure out what was crossing through the captain's mind. Not with her stone-cold face and ability to conceal herself entirely yet reveal so much. 

"Will you stay the night?" Marya asked, uncharacteristically soft as she turned her head to look at Hélène. 

"If that is what you want," Hélène murmured. 

"I shall get someone to fetch a spare hammock or mattress," Marya mumbled, delighted by her answer. 

"Or I could share your bed~" Hélène teased. 

"Would you like to?"

And there was a moment's silence as Hélène felt her heart leap out of her chest. 

"Yes."


	9. Please Leave a Light On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it would take a while but voila! another chapter, and a long one too :)))  
> Enjoy, y'all!

The captain and the mermaid now shared a chamber and a bed, and neither of them had any complaints of the lack of space or the extra warmth insulated from the other’s body. They were a ravel of limbs, harmless platonic touches being passed as they grew accustomed to this new adjustment. Hélène, who had a great deal of respect for Marya’s personal space and ownership of the bed, ensured that she did not occupy more than half of the bed and would curl up to tuck her limbs to herself so that they would not sprawl across the other woman. Marya, on the other hand, did not mind when Hélène’s leg or arm brushed against her skin when the mermaid succumbed to sleep for the contact assured her that her sinful acts had been forgiven, and Hélène’s presence alone was heartening. They would awaken as friends, greeting each other ‘good morning’ then proceeding with their days. They did not speak of the intimate dance nor did they speak of the affections and stories they had exchanged but the memories were always fresh in their minds, replaying in an endless loop of longing. Had one of them been more expressive, their bond may have been different but alas, they wore the same mask of marble that reflected nothing but a stone-cold face devoid of emotions, save for the genuine smiles they wore. They let their physiological arousal go wild for it remained unseen but anything that would reveal even the slightest of their emotions, they would snuff it automatically.

As their voyage progressed, the crew worked harder, bustling their bottoms off to prepare themselves for what laid ahead of them. To make Hélène feel less redundant, Marya had started teaching Hélène the ropes and her secret techniques of sailing like a master, as though she were one with the ocean even on land. They worked on the many different types of knots, how to hoist the sails and most importantly how to pilot the ship in which they spent most of their time doing for Marya noticed how much Hélène seemed to enjoy the simple activity. With her mermaid senses, sailing came to her naturally and it assisted in the majority of the skills she had acquired in the span of a few days.

As they worked together closely, the crew observed a number of things that were too notable to miss. Firstly, Hélène had been wearing Marya’s coat, the very same one, ever since the day of the dreadful storm when she saved Mary from the monstrous waters. Nobody was ever allowed to get their hands on her coat, even if they asked to borrow it politely but here the mermaid was fashioning about with the coat that had been given to her without the request for permission. Secondly, their conversations were more comical for they were always laughing and giggling underneath their hands that worked ineffectively to stifle their enjoyment. It was wonderful to see their captain’s spirits livened up but it was odd too to suddenly see her mood shift entirely. Lastly, Hélène had been given the freedom to do anything she wanted. **Anything.** She could lounge on the deck and take a nap, and she could even climb up to the crow’s nest to admire the view in the middle of work. She had more freedom than all of the crew members combined, but they understood that it could be the privileges of being the ‘guest of honor’ of the Moscow. They did not question their bond but it did not prevent them from whispering and gossiping among themselves, commonly among the young women of the ship and they made sure that their jitters did not reach the captain’s ears.

Though, even with her prerogatives, Hélène dedicated most of her time helping the crew members who struggled to get their jobs done now that the ocean was becoming unkind to their endeavors. Everyone admired and praised her, and the youngest ones worshipped her for her commitment and altruism. Somehow, the mermaid could detect trouble and in a second, she would be there to provide help. She would her leisure altogether to help and it was astounding how good-natured one could be. She had the power to take advantage of the freedom she had been granted but still labored herself for the sake and wellbeing of others. From the wheel, Marya found her feelings growing dominant day by day as she watched the mermaid go about committing one good deed after another. It never became tiresome to watch.

At night, after a loaded day of navigation and forcing their ship through the tides, crew members laid on the deck to take a quick nap before their night shift started while a handful of them covered the remaining hours of their current shift. Marya steered the wheel without direction for her eyes were not on the compass but on the silhouette of Hélène. The mermaid had returned the coat to the captain, or to be more precise, Hélène threw the coat over Marya’s shoulders and buttoned it up, insisting that she would freeze to death without it and Marya had responded wordlessly. Hélène sat with a blanket around her, seated near the frontal end of the ship where she had the perfect view of the horizon before her. Her hair was undone, curls flowing down her shoulders and the scales on her legs that peaked out from underneath her nightgown glowed underneath the moonlight. The flow of the water directed the wheel, moving Marya’s hands to steer the ship to port for what was the umpteenth time but the captain took no notice.

“Marya. Starboard not port,” Mary muttered, more to herself, and she took the wheel to steer them in the right direction.

“I- What?”

“You’re distracted.” Mary looked at Hélène then at her captain. “Again.”

“I apologize, Mary. I was just”-

“Go talk to her.”

“Who?”

Mary gestured to Hélène. “From my experience, staring won’t lead you anywhere. Just talk to her.”

“I’m not sure if that is the wisest thing to do,” Marya protested.

“Then what is? Waiting until you lose this opportunity so that you can regret for the rest of your life? You’re already sharing your chambers with her and that, I believe, is a massive step,” Mary said to her as she glanced at the compass. “Do this for yourself. You deserve to be happy.”

Marya hesitated. “Are you certain?”

“When was the last time you heard a joke from me?” Mary murmured sarcastically.

“Fair point.” Marya puffed up her chest with a deep breath then exhaled sharply through her mouth. “Thank you. I’ll spare some dignity on this.”

“You’re welcome.”

Marya descended the platform, boots dragging along the wooden planks instead of the usual clicking of their heels. She wringed her hands together, rehearsing a dialogue in her head as she approached the mermaid slowly. Marya was never nervous. It was a characteristic that she had never came to be acquainted with and the way her body reacted to it made it feel as though her own soul had left its vessel. Sweating bullets, tremoring, overthinking; the physiological slough clouded her cognitions and the readthrough that had been playing in her mind vanished when she stopped behind the mermaid. Silently, she took a seat beside Hélène who turned around to face Marya with a broad smile. The smile channeled a similar child-like joy to Natasha’s and there was a pang of guilt in Marya’s heart, and she was close to thinking that this was just a mere distraction to avert her attention away from her goal. Was this truly love or was this some sort of trickery by the Gods?

“Why aren’t you asleep? You must be tired after a full day,” Marya began.

Hélène’s smile softened. "It’s hard to rest when the stars are bright. Too many little lights.”

“Yeah…” Marya tilted her head to look at the stars. “They are quite pretty.” She felt her skin heat up as Hélène rested a hand over her arm and she thanked goodness for the coat. Hélène had become absorbed into the starry skies, her jaw slightly open to express her awe and this sight was more appealing than the stars she had seen a hundred times over. “Beautiful…”

“Did you say something?” Hélène questioned abruptly, and Marya’s head snapped up to look at the stars.

“T-the stars,” Marya stammered. “They’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you decided to join. For a moment, I thought you were dozing off,” Hélène confessed with a laugh.

“Why did you think that?” Marya inquired.

“The ship kept going zigzag and I heard Mary nagging and calling out your name,” Hélène answered as she twisted the blanket in her hands.

“I was thinking and I was distracted was all,” Marya lied coolly, and Hélène let it slide.

Helene gently leaned against her side & pointed up at the cluster of stars above their heads in fascination. “I’ve been told they can be used for navigation when you’re on the surface, I’ve learned a few to swim by…. Do you know how to navigate with the stars?"

Marya reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a round golden contraption, popping the lid open to show Hélène. "Uh- _compass_."

“What’s a compass?” Hélène gasped.

Marya kept stumbling and she had no idea how to pick herself up but with most of her energy, she showed Hélène the tool with steady hands. “Um… Magnetic, dial thing...points north. Shows directions. Arrows... You know?"

Hélène took the item from Marya’s hands and their hands touched just for a second. The contact was enough to send both individuals into a flustered mess but they held themselves together, desperately clambering to stability so that they did not make a fool of themselves. With the compass in hand, Hélène held it delicately and spun it around to see the arrow move; and her eyes widened into saucers. She would jump when the arrow moved, bursting into giggles before repeating the same actions. She did a complete spin, amused by how rapidly the arrow mimicked her movements within the glass. The only thing that she understood about the compass

“I don't understand how it works but I think it's pretty cool,” Hélène chirped.

“Let me show you.” And Marya took Hélène's hands to help her.

The little lesson did not take long and soon Hélène understood how to use the compass. It was easier than navigating with the stars but it was always useful to have more than one alternative when it came to finding one’s way if they were to be lost. The class had ended but neither moved from where they sat nor did they respond with any implications that their session was over. They sat in silence, heads tilted to look at their joined hands. Hélène was the first whose sobriety collided into her drunken lovestruck senses.

“Oh...”

Marya hadn’t realize that she kept her hands on Helene’s and withdrew them at lightning-speed. “Oh!”

Hélène did not mind it as much as she minded the loss of contact but she said nothing. She just stared at the compass then looked at Marya who was recovering from some flaring nerves. "Now what?"

Marya flushed when they made eye contact and looked back at the compass. “Well- uh- we have maps and nautical charts that we use as references to make sure we’re traveling in the right direction.”

It was gibberish to Hélène and had not a clue what the hell Marya was saying but she was clearly fascinated by her intelligence. If she could, she would listen to Marya ramble her knowledge away and indulge in the silkiness of her voice all day and night. The mermaid still clutched the compass and fumbled around with it as she aimlessly took in the words Marya was spewing; and her hands were numb after their short moment of contact. Toying with the compass did help with it but the way Marya gazed at her did not help the numbness in her cheeks as blood rushed to color her tanned skin. Later she would ask Mary for some books on cartography so that it would appear that she had absorbed the gibberish when she did not. Otherwise, she feared that she would never hear as much of the captain’s voice in the near future if she wer to discover that she had not been listening. A devastation!

"Shall we... Go to sleep? It's rather late now?” Marya interrupted Hélène’s daze, and the other nodded vigorously.

“Yes. That’s probably a good call,” Hélène murmured.

Hélène cursed at the moon for revolving so quickly, at time for rushing with every heartbeat and at the world for always spinning. Her revolt for the passing days saddened for she knew that somewhere in the month, she would have to return to her ordinary life under the sea. She would be wedded to someone she did not love when the person she loved existed, and they were just in front of her. She would have to live the life she was trained to have from a child to her adulthood, a life that satisfied her father more than herself. Her only friend would be the toxic of what humans called alcohol. It took away the pain better than anything else and during most days she would forget their events but she would have to cut ties with that friend if she wanted to remember the captain that she loved. These terrible things in life!

Marya guided a distracted Hélène to their shared chambers while the crew watched them attentively, except Mary who was fixated on her designated path on the ocean. Marya had an arm around Hélène’s shoulders, the attention stabbing her back like a rain of arrows. Still, she stood tall and proud. What would happen if her crew divulged her feelings? Would it taint her reputation as their strict captain? Would they remain loyal and cooperative? She had not thought of the external consequences thoroughly enough when she considered her feelings for Hélène and the worth she would obtain from this love for her. There was no telling which would outweigh the other, but the real question to ask was if the risk was worth taking. She had taken plenty of life-threatening risks in her voyages but one that concerned her love life and her crew felt like one that she had to tread lightly with. Natasha would laugh if she saw Marya so disheveled over her feelings but she would encourage her to go for it anyway for she was the biggest love enthusiast. This was an issue to be handled tomorrow, Marya decided as she closed the door behind her, blocking the nosy onlookers who were ever more curious about their relationship. Her self-consciousness battled with her feelings in a war through the night, her consciousness beating her feelings with a close call for it had only just the slightest advantage more than its competitor. Another minute of staring and Marya would break down, and she did not want that.

The night was over and a new day was welcomed. Marya woke to an empty bed that had evidently been vacant for a while judging by how cold it was. Dressed up in her usual day’s outfit, she exited her chambers with a map tucked underneath her arm, a chart unrolled in one hand and her compass in the other. The ocean was less kinder today and the crew worked hard to keep Moscow the right side up by capturing the wind in its sails. Mary was behind the wheel as she frequently was, singing a tune to herself that was played on the gramophone just a few days ago. She saluted to her captain when their gazes met and Marya offered the briefest wave of a hand in return. The crew members greeted her verbally, some with a simple ‘morning’ and others checking in on her wellbeing in which Marya gave the same response of ‘I’m alright, thank you.’

Hélène was seated in her spot, Svob’s tank held against her chest as they made conversation happily. A trail of bubbles was all it took for Hélène to know that Marya was finally awake and she turned her head to look for the captain among the busy figures that bustled about. The reaction she received was not one she ever liked. Marya’s grey hues found her dark brown ones but the meeting was not long enough for Marya to catch the wave of greeting Hélène was in the middle of. Her heart fell and so did the smile on her face, so she looked down at Svob solemnly who reached a long tentacle out of the water to pat her chin. She was aware that she had done nothing wrong to elicit ignorance from the captain but it could have been something else about her that was at fault.

“Was it something that I did?” Hélène whispered to Svob who released a gurgle of bubbles. “We spoke about the compass yesterday. That was it.”

What she did not know was that Marya had spent enough of her dignity and was scarce of any more. The captain knew what she was doing and from the corner of her eyes, she had caught Hélène’s dampened mood and downcast conversation with her octopus friend. A pang of guilt slammed into her but she tried her best to ignore it for herself. Hélène would attend to her own errands while she with hers, Marya predicted but she was partially incorrect.

Throughout the entire day, Hélène kept to herself but still provided a hand when the crew fought to keep the ship’s balance against the changing tides and wind. The only person that she spoke to was Mary who occasionally popped by to check on her or to have a laugh, a weak one. Every hour, Mary would visit Hélène’s spot of isolation and with every visitation, she caught on what was happening between the mermaid and the captain. Their lack of interaction was obvious and it was taking a toll on Hélène whose dispirited gloom was turning into an opaque solid around her, like a wall encircling her to defend her from anything that would contribute to her mood. She would brighten up in front of Mary but when the scholar would take her leave, she witnessed the way Hélène’s smile morphed into a frown immediately. On what she declared was her final visit, Mary stormed up to Marya and shot her a scowl.

“What are you doing?” Mary hissed at Marya who was taken aback.

“Steering the ship, my dear.”

“You’re hurting her!” Mary pointed out. “Do you even realize that? Why are you doing this?”

“Mary, you do not un”-

“I-I do! Marya, I know that you’re the captain and that you have a reputation but can you put that aside for once? We love you for who you are, whether you’re tough or soft. You are our captain and we want you to be happy. Will you just speak to her?”

Marya huffed and she looked at Hélène for the first time during the day. “I will…Later.”

“Do it by today,” Mary commanded.

Her feelings defeated her self-consciousness, and her guilt washed over her with disgust in herself. So much for her dignity. She waited until night fell, until the next shift ascended from their the beds to the deck and the other batch descending for their earned sleep. Mary replaced Marya at the wheel and like the previous night, Marya approached Hélène with the same nervousness, wringing her hands in the same motions and she was sweating profusely. Hélène could hear the footsteps but she did not acknowledge them. The familiar clicking of them was enough to reveal who it was, and she dunked her head further into Svob’s tank. The octopus was hopeful upon seeing Marya and he tried to push Hélène’s gigantic head out of his personal space so that she would face the captain even after she wasted the day complaining about her. Svob hissed, a cloud of bubbles floating up to Hélène’s forehead and Hélène flinched when she felt Marya’s weight on the plank she sat on.

“Mermaid… I… I would like to apologize.” Hélène raised her head, though not fully and Marya continued. “I was selfish. Yesterday, when we were walking back to the bedroom, I felt insecure about myself and I thought that what I did today would help me but it was at the expense of your mood.”

Pllacing Svob’s tank beside her, Hélène shrugged. “I guess I understand…”

Marya took Hélène’s hands in hers in one swift swoop and looked at her intensely. “I would never hurt you on purpose, love… Sometimes I become too absorbed into myself that I don’t notice what is happening around me”-

While Marya’s focal point was on her string of apologies and need to explain herself, Hélène’s was on Marya’s commitment to making things right as though it were the end of her if she did not. As Marya blathered on, Hélène took Marya’s cheeks in her hands, cupping them which shushed Marya. Her thumb ran along the curve of her cheekbone and Marya leaned into the affection. **Careless**. Marya felt something cold against her cheek, the spiteful touch of Hélène’s wedding ring and she pulled away from her hands to look at it, shattered. Hélène balled her hand into a fist and a whimper slid past her lips upon realizing her mistake. She had failed to conceal it and her secret was out. Marya did not need Hélène to tell her what it was that the ring symbolized but the heartbreak told volumes about what she felt about the marriage. She wondered how she never noticed it before. How their touches were always warm and how it did not glow like the rest of Hélène in the light. Of course she was married. A stunning being like her. There was bound to be someone who managed to ask her hand in marriage successfully.

Forcing a smile, Marya mumbled, “Who’s the lucky one?”

“Oh…I…” She bit down on her bottom lip. “It’s complicated but the lucky one definitely isn’t me.” Hélène let out a dry laugh but Marya did not join her.

“I’m sorry… You- You deserve…” Her voice cracked and it trailed off.

Hélène pursed her lips together and tipped Marya’s head up by her chin, her lips a tight smile. “He’s kind… He treats me well.” But it did not convince Marya.

“But you don’t...love him?”

Hélène shook her head. "No... But I do love another. I’m afraid it… Never mind that."

Marya’s hopes rose & then fell again. “Ah… They would be lucky to have you.”

Hélène observed her for a while then looked down at their hands, fingers intertwined to cover the ring. "I'm afraid of what they'd think of me... How could a human love a mermaid…?"

The pieces were settling into place but Marya was still trying to glue it together to form a picture out of it. Her mouth parted and the only sound that came out of it was, “Oh.”

Shrugging yet again, Hélène scoffed at herself. “What am I rambling about? You must have had a tired day. You must rest instead of listening to me ramble.”

“No... No, no! I- I like listening to you. Keep talking,” Marya quavered too abruptly.

“Okay then. I'm not sure what else to say but we could sit here and chat..." She chuckled lightly and pulled her hands away to clasp them together

Hélène rocked back and forth awkwardly and there was a blush on her face. It could have been the sun’s last evening glow spreading on her cheeks in a vibrant orange and red glow, blending nicely with Hélène’s olive skin. Either way, she was gorgeous. The wind blew her untied curls onto her face that obstructed her view and almost unconsciously, Marya reached over to brush a lock from Helene’s face. Hélène faced her sharply and Marya’s face heated up when she realized what she had done. Her hand remained on her cheek, glued there in place and it trembled. Their faces were a few inches apart and Marya saw the way Hélène’s eyes flicker down to her lips. Closing the distance between them, their lips met, connecting in a passionate kiss that sent a shudder down their spines. Desperate hands grasped each other’s clothing, tugging the other closer to their bodies greedily as they deepened the kiss. After a heated minute, they pulled away, foreheads pressed against one another’s, and hands bunched up locks of hair and crumpled clothing.

Overwhelmed, Hélène began to cry and the hot tears that trickled down her cheeks alarmed her. The ocean was not there to wipe them away, the blue blur absent to haze her desolation. No one had ever seen Hélène cry, not even Anatole or her father. Marya, who she had only known for a month, was the first and she did not have malice stinging the tip of her tongue for this display of emotions. Vassily Kurgain had always abominated the idea of emotions for it was a sign of weakness and vulnerability, and he had coached his children illiberally to heed to his own beliefs that emotions would be their ruin. Being the obedient child, Hélène obeyed him but that did not mean that she trusted his ways. Now that she was tacked to unwanted tears and sobs, she wanted to believe her old man.

Marya, who had not said anything, stroked her cheeks, using her sleeves to dab the tears away as they streamed down the other’s cheeks. She would not speak if Hélène did not want her too and she would not pressure her to speak either. Marya could not empathize with her predicament but she wished that she could do more to help. She did not know how mermaids lived their lives or if they were any similar to the humans led their lives. She could not do anything. Hélène’s downcast eyes stared at the patch of tears on her skirt and she sniffled softly.

“I can’t do this… I’m married… When this is over, I have to go back home”- Hélène sniveled.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You’ll get to see your brother and your mother. You’ll return to the ocean again,” Marya tried, stunned that Hélène sounded like she did not want to return when it was what she had been pining for ever since the abduction.

With a tearful gaze, Helene looked at Marya. “Don’t you get it, captain? I don’t want to leave you because I am in love with you.” Marya inhaled loudly through her nose, dumbfounded, and Hélène who had already calmed herself down laughed shakily. “It’s funny how your scholar figured it out before you did…”

Marya chuckled quietly and cupped Hélène’s cheek with a hand, a finger tracing along her jaw. “I… I can be quite dense to this sort of situations but… Oh, heaven above help me. I love you too, mermaid. I’ve loved you ever since that stunt of yours during the storm. I was in doubt with myself but the longer you stayed, the harder I fell. You are just _so_ incredible.”

“You really do?” Hélène peeped, tears welling in her eyes again from joy.

“Yes, my dear! I really do!”

And Marya was silenced by another kiss. Svob gurgled happily in his tank then crawled to his mini cave to give the ladies their privacy. The crew saw the romance unfold and the girls were a melted mess, toiling to muffle their squeals of joy in celebration for their captain. The older ones smiled among themselves, some agreeing to one of the men uttering ‘about dang time’ and they continued with their work. The pair was left alone to their business, any distanced rid of and Hélène burrowed herself into Marya who was contented to be holding the one she loved in her arms, her head nestled on her curls.

Mary, like the others who spectated the their on-ship romance, was happy for them. She missed Sonya, her loving girlfriend who was caring for her ill cousin while she awaited her return and Mary was excited just thinking about seeing her again. To press a kiss on her lips, her cheeks, skin and forehead, to cuddle against her in bed or sit with her in front of the fireplace. She had to train her patience for the voyage was nowhere near its end, and good things always came to those who waited. Clicking the compass shut, she made a promise to herself that she would make up for the time she missed with Sonya and that she would pay brimful attention to the objective of their voyage.

Looking ahead, she spotted something flying towards their ship, a shadow of a bird that was far away. Squinting, the shadow expanded as it drew closer and it became too distorted to be a normal bird, too large even. Mary interpreted the distortion to be the ruffles of its feathers but when it neared the ship, the ‘feathers’ were too thick to feathers. They were heads, nine of them, and the size of the creature was twice the size of Moscow. Mary wanted to scream. It was the "Nine Phoenix" or what the Chinese called, 九凤. It was a species Mary had not studied enough on but she could remember the stories about it, the deaths it had caused to unsuspecting Chinese villages, of the horrors it brought as it terrorized people. If it could destroy an entire village, it could demolish their ship with one fearsome dive. Speeding to the warning bell, she run it frantically, tolling it until it caught everyone’s attention and unfortunately, the phoenix’s one too.

“Tier 5 beast!” Mary yelled.

“What’s tier 5?” Hélène frowned and Marya’s expression darkened.

“The highest tier… Survival or death”-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give a shoutout to the incredible @meetthefates for quite a lot of the events that you see in this chapter. <3 Credits and hugs to her!
> 
> Also, feel free to scream at me about ruining the moment with birb on @irreplaceable-ecstacyy on tumblr!  
> Thanks gang ;0


	10. War Gets Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: violence & blood.

The phoenix advanced towards the Moscow, it’s crew ablaze in a panic as they armed themselves with their specialized weapons, getting into formation as their captain commanded them. Mary hid in a secluded corner with a blockade of books surrounding her, Chinese symbols splashed on the pages with old illustrations painted by hand. The scholar knew that she would be of little help in the offense so the most she could provide was her knowledge on the creature, in which she had nothing. She had read more on the sea creatures that were possibly dwelling several meters below them but it never came to mind the possibility of encountering an aerial creature. The first encyclopedia failed to aid her with the information she needed so she moved on to the next book, muttering in mandarin as she read to block out the screams and shouts of her crew mates. To make matters worse, the cry of the phoenix alerted her that it was getting closer, judging by the volume of its shriek and the captain’s urgent roars. With around seven or eight books to go through, she would never finish them all in time until the phoenix arrived!

Hélène had armed herself with a sword, the very same one she had used during her first duel with the captain but now she stood beside the captain to fight with her. She assisted her with the direction of the water, telling her when to turn and when to stop for the scrambling of the crew did not help with the balance at all. It rocked the ship with every march of footsteps, younglings and adults scampering about to ensure that they were prepared for the avian’s assault. They had never faced a creature of the fifth tier. When they did, they would flee at first sight but there was no escaping this one for they had to continue on with their voyage without surrender. Immediate surrender would mean defeat and Marya would never get her hands on that cure, and Natasha would be gone. Those who had calmed helped with the sails, accelerating their vessel towards the creature while Marya proceeded to yell at those who were worrying their heads off.

“Marta! Get reading! We’re going to need more than just a pair of eyes with those books!” she yelled then pointed at a group who stood idly by a post, the members armed rifles. “Roan, Kat, Jem! Up the nets. We’re going to need our best gunners to have a good view of that bird! Phoebe, get the sails!”

“Your worry is making me panic,” Hélène mumbled under her breath.

“I am not worrying. I am maintaining order and discipline before we capsize,” Marya told her with no sign of calmness, her knuckles white from grasping the wheel too hard.

“Love, we won’t get out of here alive if our nerves run us to insanity. You pilot the ship as you always do and you can handle the offense while I handle the defense,” Hélène suggested and Marya agreed for there was no room for argument.

“Go”- But before Hélène could run off, Marya grasped her wrist. “But be careful.”

Hélène gave her a peck on the lips and winked. “You won’t lose me. And you had better be careful too. Promise me that?”

“I will, and will you make that promise?” Marya returned, her gaze brimming with concern.

“Promise. Alright, to your station, captain!”

“And to yours, mermaid.”

Hélène saluted and dashed off to join the group who were armed with swords, lined in a formation that surrounded the deck. The mermaid occupied a vacant spot in between a larger man and a younger girl. The man’s arms stringed in veins that protruded from his skin with such intensity from gripping his sword, Hélène was slightly worried that he would combust. As for the girl, she had not one but two daggers that were designed like no other. They had a distinctive wavy blade-patterning, but the edges were sharpened to perfection. Hélène had never seen anything quite like it but she could not be intrigued now. Her questions could be reserved for later.

The phoenix made its entrance, flaming red wings outstretched to block the sun’s rays from shining upon the ship but it casted no shadow. It glowed gloriously, a spectacular of flames, feathers and talons that sparkled dangerously. What made the extravagant monster petrifying was its nine heads. Their beaks were coated in blood, a warning for their current prey of the fate of their previous meal. The dense crimson dripped from their beaks, ticking as they plopped onto the wooden surface of the deck, coloring the polished brown into an inky maroon. With a flap of its wings, it sent a large gust of wind hurdling towards the ship, causing it to tip dangerously to one side and it flew overhead with a screeching caw. It left a trail of flaming feathers in its wake in which the crew frantically swatted away with the tips of their weapons to prevent their ship from burning down. Considering its size and its arsenal of weapons that included its beak, feathers and talons, there was little to no chance that all of them would make it out alive. At this rate, the phoenix could very well declare its victory but it decided to have a little fun with the miniature crew and their vessel.

Mary and Marta who was Moscow’s other scholar were sent to Marya’s chambers where they could skim through the books without being exposed to their threat. The books laid sprawled across the table on their spines as the two ladies ran through them two by two and they shared the information they had found in disbanded fragments here and there. Mary scribbled their findings onto a random roll of parchment paper she had found on the floor while Marta did most of the reading for she was quite a fast reader. Mary hastened with her translations from mandarin to English, on the verge of tearing her hair off of her scalp whenever she struggled with some of the Chinese characters, but Marta helped ease her strain the best that she could. Working together, they worked more efficiently than what was going on beyond the door that shielded them from the phoenix, out there in the warzone.

Marya saw her crew members disappear and watched as the size decreased rapidly as the phoenix dissected her ship. The blood of her people were shed, an orchestra of anguished screams penetrating her ear drums while she tried her best to fend off the phoenix at her own post. She could not leave the wheel for the vessel depended on it to maintain its balance but there was something strangling her to leave her spot to help her crew before anyone else died. The blood. She had never seen so much. In all of her years as a pirate, she had never seen so many souls depart her very deck; their deaths too grotesque to articulate. Many had been thrown into the water, only to be picked up by one of the nine beaks for feeding and so far, five had been fed. The others who had lost their lives, Marya could only remember the terror in their eyes as the talons and beaks came down upon them, jet-black nails and greedy beaks digging into their skulls until they cracked. Their corpses were flung towards Marya, a cruel taunt from the creature to the captain of the ship, and the blood dribbled down her pale cheeks as the bodies flew over her. With another body thrown at her, that was the last straw.

Marya drew her sword and descended onto the deck to join Hélène’s side. Hélène swung her sword at one of the heads that tried to peck at her violently, brandishing her weapon whenever the head dared to inch closer. Its large bulk kept the ship on the water, claws grasping either sides of the Moscow. Her hands were covered in the blood of the deceased for she had tried to save them but to no avail, no single person could have defended another from a bird ten times their size. Kicking a rope up from the floor and into her free hand, Marya thrusted the roll into Hélène’s chest.

“Climb up the rigging and to the mast. Fasten the rope and find a way to tie this son of a bitch up!” Marya instructed as she directed the phoenix’s attention to her instead of Hélène.

Draping the rope over her shoulders, Hélène made her climb. She ascended stealthily, evading the snapping beaks that tried to catch her feet. Once she was on a mast, she tied a knot to fasten a rope and with cautious hands found a suitable length of the rope to hold before she could swing off from the mast. Studying the bird, she calculated her moves with precision and sorted out the amount of weight and energy to use in order to achieve her planned moves. It was a life-threatening risk for her but it was one worth trying. Rope in hand, she hopped off the mast and gravity carried her into the air with the assistance of her weight. She swung herself towards the beast, looping and flying over every curve and bend of the phoenix until the ropes tangled in up into a mangled mess. Hélène landed on the deck with a painful crash but with how hard she had fallen with the ropes in her grip, she had managed to tighten it up around the bird to send it to the ground with her.

“Are you alright?!” Hélène heard Marya call out.

“I’m fine! Just kill the bird!” Hélène shouted as she pushed herself up.

With one of their heads immobile beneath the ropes, Marya held her sword with both hands and drove the blade through its neck. With one clean slice, it was beheaded and the surviving heads cried out in pain until the waves beneath them shuddered. The ropes began to burn as the phoenix channeled its anger into heat and with its liberated talon, it clawed at Marya’s head, catching her long-matted hair as it flayed its legs about to break free from its bondage. It dragged Marya along the deck, slamming her into a wall then the opposite and it felt like her the skin on her head was tearing off her skull. It went on for too long and it felt nauseating more than it was painful. If this continued, she could lose her head, much like the head she had detached from the neck of the phoenix. The clambering of footsteps caught her off guard then a figure threw themselves over Marya with a dagger in hand. The dagger slashed through her hair and the sickening swinging stopped altogether abruptly. Her head spun and she could sea stars dancing in her vision accompanied by black spots. Hélène came running to Marya and together with the crew member who had saved her, they streeled the captain aside to some place safer.

“I’ll take care of her. Thank you, Laney…” Hélène whispered.

Hélène lifted Marya’s head and rested it on her lap, running her hands through her cut hair, the now reaching her shoulders instead of pooling down to her waist. Marya could not speak nor could she function after the torpedo she had just experienced and what she really needed was a good nap. She could process the kisses that Hélène littered her face with and she leaned into her, burying her face into Hélène’s abdomen to hide away from the horrors that were happening on deck. Her hands balled up into fists to cling on to Hélène’s blouse and she squeezed her bloodshot eyes shut. In her mind, she conjured the images of her dying crew, an announcement of her failure as their captain and friend.

“We’re done for…” Marya muttered hopelessly.

“No, we aren’t, captain. Don’t give up now. We can still make it!” Hélène implored as she held Marya.

“God can’t save us now,” Marya breathed.

“No, but we can save ourselves. Captain, we cannot depend our lives on anyone else but ourselves. If God won’t help us then it is something that we have to do something,” Hélène tried to rationalize but nothing seemed to make sense.

“I’ve failed everyone…”

Mary burst out of the chambers with her scroll of finalized notes that she had completed with Marta who remained in the safety of the room. However, she did not approach where her captain currently hid for she did not wish to be the phoenix’s dinner. Waving her arms in the air like a mad woman, this caught Hélène’s attention. The howl of the wind and the noise from the beast made it difficult to get her message across. Throwing the scroll to them was not an option for the wind could send it into the ocean in a blink of an eye and again, running over to them was definitely not an alternative Mary was willing to try.

“Hélène!!! Can you hear me?!” Mary screamed.

“I can! What is it?!” Hélène yelled back with significantly lesser effort.

“If we can’t kill it, we could try to chase it away!”

Hélène made a face. “How do we do that?!”

“Birds have sensitive hearing! They cannot handle loud sounds!” Mary shouted then coughed into her arm.

Hélène perked up and she lowered Marya’s head to the floor so that she could stand up. “Mary!! Tell everyone to cover their ears! I know what to do!” Ripping the sleeves of her blouse, she stuffed the cloth into Marya’s ears as makeshift earplugs and the captain only stared at her.

“What are you doing…?” Marya grumbled as she pressed her hands to her ears.

“I’m going to shoo this dumb bird away…” Hélène answered confidently and she took off.

The best place to execute her plan was the crow’s nest, the highest point of the ship where she could stand taller than the distracted bird. For the second time, she climbed the rigging, trained hands pulling her up the ropes and onto the balcony above at her fastest record. The ship swayed as the weakened phoenix fought the crew members sloppily, its beheaded neck drooling with blood that was painting Moscow red. Those of Moscow’s team who remained were swift and they moved intelligent to avoid their demise with the talons and beaks. Hearing Mary’s warnings to cover her ears, they huddled up with their captain in a safe corner behind a stack of barrels and crates, two younger ones hugging their captain for comfort. Marya’s head rolled back to look up at Hélène who stood at the crow’s nest, and she gave a nod before looking at the others to ask them to cover their ears.

Puffing up her chest with a deep breath, Hélène released a shrill cry that pierced through the air. The powerful sound waves she had created travelled through the wind and rammed into the phoenix who staggered backwards from the impact. Something within its holes for ears exploded in a confetti of blood and flesh and shrieked in pain, though the shrieks combined by eight heads was nothing compared to the second round of soundwaves Hélène projected. It flapped its wings to make its escape, stumbling to catch the wind as it flew back to whence it came.

Mary had been correct about a mermaid’s ability to create soundwaves and she too had been accurate when she predicted that the wind would channel it even further. Mermaids needed those soundwaves to talk underwater which explained why Hélène spoke with ease during her distraught conversation with Mary above the chaos. The control of soundwaves were a significant trait of a mermaid and it was one of the first few things Mary remembered reading on about them. She had heard Hélène underwater during the storm when she was sinking, how her voice reached her ears as it would if she were to yell on land which was so very odd to hear in the depths of the water. But it was what saved their lives from the phoenix.

Hélène returned to the huddled group to check on everyone and most importantly her captain who was shaken. She had recovered from the shock but her spirits her dampened. Everyone checked on each other, murmuring the repetitive question of ‘are you okay?’ while one of the men went to retrieve the medical kit. Mary went to find her partner in crime, pausing to ask if Hélène was alright when she walked past her in which the mermaid responded with a raspy ‘yes’. They hugged for a second then returned to their business quickly. The younger ones embraced Hélène thankfully for saving them all, pouring out their gratitude profusely and Hélène assured them that it was alright, or that it was at least going to be as long as she was around. Her heart ached for their lost friends and family for some of them were in tears, hiding sobs behind forced smiles but she did nothing to provoke the emotions. With the younger ones leaving her to reunite with Mary and Marta, Hélène took Marya in her arms and held on to her. Marya’s arms hung by her sides, her eyes devoid of anything and she just leaned into the other. The suffering behind her darkened grey clouded her eyes with misty tears that did not fall. A captain did not cry and she was not a pathetic excuse.

“We did it… We made it through,” Hélène told her and kissed her cheek.

“You did it… It was all you, my dear,” Marya spoke as her arms snaked around Hélène’s waist. “Thank you.”

"Come now. You need rest," Hélène insisted. "And I expect no protestations."

Ushering Marya to her chambers, Hélène spared a glance at the warzone where they had seized their victory. The ship was splotched in patches of blood, dotted with torn flesh that she could not identify and weapons were discarded where the ones who fought were snatched away. Behind closed doors was where Marya was safe from the mental torture of having to stare at the graveyard that was her ship. How many more lives would she have to lose to continue their voyage, she did not know but she could not stop now. The lives of the deceased would be in vain if she were to turn back and return home and returning home would mean costing another life and that was Natasha’s. The phoenix was only the beginning. Beyond the blue, there was more in store for the Moscow, things far worse than the avian creature.


	11. Crimson Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some hurt but more fluff. :D  
> Enjoy!

A copper kettle was passed around the captain, the scholar and the mermaid as they went through the map together. Smoke seeped out of the opening where tea spilled out into small porcelain cups, the aroma of black tea diffusing into the heavy air of tension in an attempt to ease the impact of the hour’s events. They sat in Marya’s chambers, sipping on tea but Marya’s cup did not reach her lips. Her cold hands cupped the warming porcelain, her attention fixated on a map Mary had brought with her to identify their location. Based on what Mary navigated with a compass and the emerging evening stars, they had entered the territory of the Asian seas, home to the Zhìyù. They were getting closer to the cure and it was news that would have struck Marya with joy had it not been for the cost of trespassing the forbidden waters.

After Hélène had tended to Marya in their chambers, they went below deck to check on the recovering crew who was being taken care of by Mary and Marta, the scholar duo who were untouched by the phoenix’s wrath. They hurtled as they worked to help everyone with their injuries that were inflicted upon them by the vicious claws and beaks of their beaten opponent. At this, Hélène left Marya’s side to lend a helping hand in aid of the ones who needed water or food. Even a hug sufficed their stresses. The very sight of her dispirited crew pained Marya and mentally, she had a headcount. Their ship, a Bark that once held 22 members, now held 12. 10 sacrifices to pay for entry. The twelve were barely surviving under such harsh conditions, some pleading to feel the consolation of land before they sailed any further into the seas. Desperate to fulfill their wishes, Marya assigned Marta to care for her unwell members while Mary, Hélène and herself devised a safer route away from the dangerous zones of the ocean. The three of them were enough to pilot the ship on their own while the crew took a well-deserved break. They napped, chatted, drew and cracked a few joked to distract themselves but nothing was enough to choke down their sniffles or sobs that broke from them.

The volume of the sounds that came from below disappeared as the night aged, and Marya was thankful that she did not have to endure the sadness any longer than she could handle. Behind the wheel, she forced herself to focus on the plan that she had come up with. Mary read the maps in search of the safer route that she vowed to find so that they did not run into any more unpleasantries. Hélène sat beside Marya with her legs folded and her eyes closed, feeling the ocean beneath the ship as they sailed. She could sense the oceanic creatures that swam about. Schools of fish, pods of underwater mammals, massive figures that Hélène had no intention of discovering and beasts that lurked near the surface. She routed the ship’s course ingeniously and Marya listened attentively. An obstruction in the distance obscured her senses and it was an indication that there was a deserted island nearby that they could stop at. Mary was unable to note any ports around them so they turned to the island for their provisions. It was a wise decision to make a stop for the sails were in no condition to continue on at sea. Claws had scratched the cloths, degrading them to uselessness. If they were to go on without changing them, they would be made stranded to follow the tides, and any delay would strike panic in Marya.

Docking Moscow on the sands of the island, the crew woke up from their naps to sprint to land with their arms stocked with mats, food and drinks. They gathered in a circle, established by the mats that formed a rather sharply edged circle where it surrounded a fireplace that had been freshly made by two members. They laid on the mat and leaned against each other, tranquility setting in upon them. It was visible in their faces; how they shut their eyes and pointed their heads towards the sky as though they were looking to the gods above to see them, hopeful that the next time they would be lucky. Mary joined the circle, arms encircled around one of the younger lads who dug their face into her shoulder.

Hélène and Marya stayed on the ship. Back inside the chambers, Marya sat in her chair behind her study while Hélène stood behind her with a pair of scissors. Marya had entrusted Hélène with the task of trimming her hair evenly after the whole fiasco with the phoenix’s talons catching her locks of hair. A sword was not exactly the best item to use to cut hair, especially if it was not a clean cut. The ends of her red hair were jagged and the locks, where they reached just slightly above her shoulders, were crooked and unsymmetrical which was entirely bothersome to Marya who strove on perfection. Marya waited patiently while listening to the soft snips of the scissors and the odd crunch that her hair would make when the blades cut through them. Hélène had completed one side and it was now up eyeing her way through the other side to ensure that it was symmetrical to the finished part.

“It’s really short…” Marya sighed as she reviewed herself in the mirror, her brows furrowing uncertainly.

“A new change never hurt,” Hélène remarked as she evaluated her final work. “Does it look alright to you?”

Marya angled the mirror. “You did a wonderful job with it… I shouldn’t be fussing over this. It’s unnecessary,” she scolded herself.

Hélène pressed her hands to Marya’s cheeks and moved her head upwards to meet her face to face before swooping in for a quick kiss on the lips. “Hush now. I absolutely adore your hair. It makes you look… robust! Like the woman that you are.”

“Flatterer,” Marya snorted as she reached a hand up to grasp the back of Hélène’s head, bringing her down to her to plant a kiss to her lips. “Thank you, mermaid…”

“You’re most welcome, captain~” Hélène hummed as she returned the kiss, murmuring the last half of her words against Marya’s lips. “We should be with the others outside.”

“We do… Yeah,” Marya concurred.

Rising to her feet, Marya offered Hélène her arm which the mermaid took eagerly. Marya took no notice of how Hélène had taken Svob’s tank in her arm, the octopus bubbling happily in his tank as he waved his tentacles about. They walked out of the room and off the ship to the gathering of mats and people where they sang quietly to a song that Mary started humming to not long ago. The younger ones orchestrated their own harmonies to produce an instrumental while Mary sang with the other adults. The fire that flickered in the middle of the circle danced as they choired, swaying to the rhythm of the song as though it were their only audience to cheer on them. It brought solace, nevertheless.

Marya and Hélène took their seats, separating when certain groups of the members beckoned either of them to join them. Marya sat among the adults, a person away from Mary, while Hélène sat among the youngsters who welcomed her benevolently with an affectionate hug. The song had not ended yet. It was a song that Marya was familiar with and so her voice slipped into the harmonies, a voice so soft, it was almost unlike her ferocity. A bottle of water was passed around where the younger ones sat but a bottle of rum was shared among the adults, though Marya did not accept. Svob had crawled out of his tank to sit upon a boy’s shoulder beside Hélène to watch everything but he could not hear the song. Hélène, with fascination, sifted through the crew in awe. She was speechless.

‘ _Drink with me to days gone by_ _  
To the life (To the life) that used (That used) to be (To be)  
At the shrine of friendship, never say die  
Let the wine of friendship never run dry  
Here's to (Here's to you) you and here's to me._’

Silence overtook them. There was not a sound on the island but the creaks of the Moscow and the crackle of the fire. A woman tossed a log into the fire to keep it alive and it was engulfed in the flames to build a large flame. After the drinks came some food, loafs of bread being distributed to be divided evenly among four people with a side of jams. Dinner did not take long to finish for some of them did not have the appetite to stomach their thick slices of bread. They ate bits of jam to maintain their sugar levels, pinched the corners of their bread to savor it or to refrain from pinching themselves in hopes that they would wake up from this nightmare. With the bread gone and the bottles drained of their contents, Marya finally spoke.

“Shall we say a prayer…?” Marya suggested as she held her hands out to the ones beside her, and they took it.

“We shall…” a boy, no older than twenty years old, responded. It was the boy Mary had been holding in her arms. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying, cheeks flushed and his bottom lip quivered as he took in deep breaths. He held his hands out to the people beside him like Marya had and everyone joined their hands in prayer. Hélène, who was not a religious person, connected the circle and closed her eyes like everyone else.

Marya intoned a lengthy prayer. She prayed for the ones they had lost, for their souls to find peace wherever they went and that all of their singing followed them to guide them to some place better. Then she prayed for the ones who were present. She prayed for her crew members, her friends, individually and for God to lead them safely to their destination. Lastly, she prayed for her goddaughters who were at home. Their suffering was just as awful as theirs was and Marya felt sorry for never being the good godmother that she was supposed to be. They ended it with an ‘amen’ but they did not let go of each other’s hands.

“I… I thank you all for being here. You had to leave your families to help me save mine, and you had to suffer the costs of the sacrifices we made along the way. For that, I am truly sorry…” Marya murmured.

“Captain, apologies really don’t suit you,” a woman joked and the jab elicited a round of laughs. “But we forgive you… You’ve done so much for us at your own costs and gave us more than we could ever ask for.”

Marya shook her head but laughed. “Thank you for that, Sunny, my dear…”

“Captain, we thank you for all the adventures we’ve had…” a man spoke up. “We’ll keep sailing. Sail in honor for the ones we lost.”

“We will, that’s for sure,” Marya assented. “And speaking of sailing, we need to repair the ship but before that, get some rest.”

“I would have whined but I heard the word ‘rest’.”

“Hilarious, Jem,” Marya chortled.

They did not put out the fire for some of them chose to rest on their mats with the heat of the flames. Mary remained with the boy in her arms and Marta brought out some unread books on Chinese mythology for them to go through. The men and women got to work with the sails, bringing out a new set from their storage room to change out the worn ones. The youngsters went to get more rest, either on the mats on the sand where it was warmed or below deck on their hammocks where it was cooling with the night wind. Marya bade all of them goodnight, Hélène by her side with Svob’s tank in her arms as they retired to their chambers for the night.

It took minutes for Hélène to pass out in bed but Marya did not feel exhausted. She laid awake and stared at the blank ceiling. Despite the assuring words that she received, she still fretted about losing any more of them now that they had entered dangerous territories. The most stressful thing that crossed her mind was if they would all make it out alive without Moscow sinking leagues underwater to where the cure could possibly be residing alongside other shipwrecks of failed voyagers. Would she end up like that too? Hélène was sure to live if Moscow were to sink but with the creatures that roamed this ocean, her demise could be a lot worse than drowning.

Evicting the thoughts, she tried to sleep but the minutes seeped into hours. She strained herself to find slumber but it was nowhere to be seen. Giving up, Marya got out of bed, carried her boots with her and walked out. The men and women who had been replacing the sails had finished it and were now asleep on deck with blankets clumsily draped over their longer bodies. A few of the went to the extra level of using the older sails as a massive blanket that was sufficient to cover most of them. It was innovative but at the same time a sight to take in. Marya had taken her boots off so that she would not wake them with her thumping footsteps as she dismounted the ship to sit on the sand with a spare mat that was unused in their gather circle around the fire. She refueled the dying fire with a few logs so that the sleepers did not catch a cold in the middle of the night and placed Mary’s books onto another mat so that the pages did not absorb the moisture of the sand. Being a godmother to two beautiful ladies took an effect on her as a captain for sometimes she would feel obliged to care for her own people as she did for Natasha and Sonya.

Satisfied, she dragged her mat aside and seated herself on the sand, nearby where the water reached the sand in the tumbles of waves. She had found a stick to draw in the sand, doodling to her heart’s content to keep her mind off of her worries. She occupied the canvas before her but watched the ocean erase her work. It did not matter for she would draw anew. There would always be something to fill up the empty spaces even if they were washed away. Marya’s hand did not stop scribbling and tracing the sand that she became hypnotized by her own repetitive movements until she heard an intrusive voice behind her.

“You should really try to draw something else… You can’t draw a fish at all.”

Marya then felt the weight of her coat being placed on her shoulders and Hélène sat beside her with Svob’s tank hugged in her arms. She leaned into Marya, her head resting on her shoulder as she fought between the state of wakefulness and sleep. Tutting in disapproval, Marya kissed Hélène’s forehead and held her close to her side.

“Why are you up?” the captain asked softly.

Hélène grumbled. “The bed was empty…’

Marya stabbed her stick into the sand and listened to Hélène’s steady breathing. If she paid closer attention, she could hear the beating of the other's heart over the waves. It had grown quiet but the waves did the favor of keeping the awkwardness away by providing an ambience to their surroundings. Hélène settled Svob’s tank on the sank and extended her leg to dip a toe in the water when it rose close enough for her to feel the water.

“Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?” Hélène said suddenly.

“They do? Why three?” Marya inquired as she looked at the octopus in the tank.

“Svob wouldn’t tell me but he thinks it makes him cool,” Hélène giggled.

“How adorable…”

“Me or Svob?”

“The both of you, but more of you.”

“I knew it.”

“Cheeky.” They exchanged a kiss and Marya cradled Hélène in her arms before talking again. “So, what will you do when you return home?”

Hélène knew there was no use evading this question for she would have to face this for herself soon. “For starters, I’ll be getting married when I return. My father will not have any more delays, even though I was kidnapped. After marriage, Pierre and I will try to co-exist. We had a talk about having children but I wasn’t too enthusiastic about it. My father’s persistent because he wants grandchildren but I don’t see myself as a mother, and Pierre just wants children but he respects my decision. Neither of us can get what we want without angering my father so… whatever he says, we’ll have to do.”

“That is just dreadful and boring,” Marya expostulated.

“It is but it’s the life I have to live,” Hélène muttered with a shrug.

“If I could keep you with me, I would but I wouldn’t want to cross your father,” Marya admitted and Hélène smiled up at her.

“And if I could stay with you, I would… You’ve made me so happy,” Hélène murmured as she stroked Marya’s cheek.

“And you have too… You give me hope, happiness, excitement… You’ve given me so much.” _And you taught me to love again._

“Stop, you make me blush,” Hélène squeaked bashfully. “Imagine the life we would have together. I’d sail with you and Svob… With these amazing people. Take on other creatures, fight pirates.”

“Easier said than done but I’m always up for an adventure with you… We could sail to Europe or Asia. Properly, and not by trespassing like we are now. We’ll see different places, make some memories, discover new things. We could even live together, if you want. You’ll get to meet the girls… We’ll… We’ll be a family. I’ll take care of you out of water, give you the best things and make sure that you’re happy…” Marya trailed off. She was going too far with her stupid imagination like a child and it was upsetting her for it would never happen. “I went too far, didn’t I?”

Looking down, she found that Hélène had dozed off with a smile on her face. She had been listening to Marya but she could not fight against the exhaustion that washed over her. At least Marya did not bore her with her words. Placing Svob’s tank on Hélène’s abdomen, she carried the mermaid in a secured bridal style over to the gathering circle where she saw Mary stirring awake to grab a book from the pile on the mat beside her. She yawned just as she saw Marya, greeting her with her mouth still opened wide from yawning that it came out as a whale’s call. Hélène was light in her arms, even with the tank plopped on top of her, so she could spare a while for a chat with Mary who had something to say at the tip of her tongue.

“Did I wake you?” Marya questioned but Mary shook her head.

“No…Need to read for tomorrow,” Mary grunted.

“Sleep, princess. You need your beauty sleep,” Marya nagged but the name-calling snapped Mary awake.

“Don’t call me that,” Mary rebuked and smacked Marya’s leg. “I’m not a princess… I’m not.”

“There are some things we cannot run away from such as your own name. Just get some rest. You’re going to need your energy more tomorrow,” Marya told her and the scholar nodded.

“I just don’t want any more of that princess stuff, alright? I left that behind for a reason,” Mary implored as she laid down.

“I promise…”

With a huff, Mary nodded off to sleep, her head on a book as her pillow. Marya made her way back to the ship and into her chambers, tucking Hélène in before sliding in beside her. She held Hélène as she slept for she did not want to let her go. In just a while more, she would have to see her off. Hélène would return to the ocean and she would return to her goddaughters. They would live their lives as they were meant to be as tickling with fate was a gamble. Marya’s imagination would always remain one and the love she had for Hélène would only turn to pain. But, her goddaughters were always there to heal her. Would they be able to heal this damage though? The hole that would be left in her heart might end up being permanent, one that could not be filled up again.


	12. The Horror & the Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best chapter :0 But i promise it gets better

The sun blazed upon them, an unforgiving blaze torching those who scurried around on deck as they adapted to the maneuvering of the fresh sails that were installed just a few nights ago. They were stiff from residing for years beneath the deck so it was up to the crew and the ropes to adjust them to achieve the desired speed Marya wanted. Analytically, they were only minutes away from the cure where it was said to be protected with false entrances and a legitimate one in which mermaids could detect with their senses. Entering the wrong one would mean a certain death but no voyager ever lived to tell what laid beyond the different entrances for it was a whirlpool that sucked them into the darkness. Many have speculated that it was either drowning or becoming fish food to whatever terrors swam around the vortex of water, and Marya did not wish to meet the misfortune of either deaths. She had come so far. If she failed, it would mean failing Natasha and the Rostovas, and she would her as well. Meeting Natasha in the life after this one, Marya could not bear to imagine the look of disappointment and betrayal on the face of her goddaughter. It was possibly worse than death to meet the pained look of Natasha as she looked at her own godmother with hate and disdain for failing to save her. For throwing her life away and never being there for her.

She took a deep breath and slapped her own face to wake herself up from the thoughts gnawing away at her self-esteem. She could do this. With Hélène on her side, she would not fail. Even if she were to die trying to get the cure, there would be someone else who might get it and save her goddaughter for her. Straightening her back, she checked the compass then looked ahead for the whirlpools so that she did not drive Moscow into one of them by accident. She would have to anchor the ship or sail around them. She had already appointed someone to take over the wheel to sail around if the anchor was not long enough to secure the ship to a halt. So, with everything in order and organization, she had some confidence that things would go smoothly.

“Do you see the whirlpools?” Marya asked Mary who was looking through a telescope with her nose slightly scrunched up.

“No… Not yet. They should be close,” Mary hypothesized as she kept the telescope aside.

“I feel them,” Hélène interjected. “About 3 minutes away.”

“Are they below where the cumulonimbus clouds are?” Mary whimpered as she pointed at the dark gray clouds up ahead in the distance.

“That is correct,” Hélène answered, almost laughing. “I thought this cure would have a secret entrance. Something subtle. But we have a beacon of clouds revealing its location.”

“It’s a way to lure passing sailors. You create something obvious and there’s always a trap. People will try to act smart and find a loophole themselves to get what they want but they always end up getting shipwrecked,” Marya explained.

“How do you know all this?” Hélène chuckled as she propped her head on Marya’s shoulder.

“Stories, experience and repetitive patterns,” Marya bragged, faltering when Hélène gave her a kiss on the cheek. “We should prepare if we have a storm coming on.”

“It’s not a storm. Like I said, it’s an actual beacon to attract unsuspecting sailors. What we have to prepare for is below us,” Hélène corrected her.

“Are there any unfriendly fishes down there?” Marya quivered as she hugged her arms around herself.

“Plenty of them… I don’t know how you’re going to do, captain, but if this succeeds, you have my respect,” Hélène grinned.

“Are you implying that you still don’t respect me?” Marya challenged as she punched Hélène’s shoulder childishly.

“I do, but for other reasons,” Hélène responded jeeringly. “Anyway, do you have Fedya’s compass with you?”

Marya produced the blue compass from her coat pocket. “Yes. Do I take this with me when I go down there?”

“ _We’ll_ need it to find that cure. Without it, we’re useless. The shrine that it’s in might block out my senses, which is an intelligent move by the way, so we have to rely on that,” Hélène conceded, thinking previously that she could be more helpful than she was going to be.

“Alright…”

 _We._ That was not a collective word that Marya had wanted to hear. When she referred to herself in the singular sense, she meant it. She was going down there alone and she did not want anyone endangering themselves, not even Hélène who was perceptibly the most suited candidate to get the cure. She had prepared herself for this for months and getting someone else to do the job for her was dishonorable on her. She was not willing to hand out more sacrifices to the ocean to take for not doing things herself so this time, her life would be the one up for the next round. Marya concocted a plan to make Hélène stay on the ship. Since the mermaid’s stubbornness levelled her own, she could not waste her time even trying to beat her down verbally. Physically? There was a way to stop her but that would involve deception and Marya knew that lying was one of the greatest sins to commit. It was ironic how the worst things had to be done for the good, and she wondered if she would ever be forgiven by God and Hélène for doing this. It was not a selfish act, she rationalized. It was to save Hélène from killing herself and for her goddaughter. Hélène would understand and hopefully God did too for she did not want this sin to become her debt to him.

The blue scenery dimmed to a grey slate and the clouds roofed Moscow in an opaque layer that blocked out the once-scorching sun. There was a line that divided the bright sky and the darkness of their, formed by the shadow of the clouds that stopped just a few meters away from where the whirlpools sloshed in the still ocean. The waves stopped as they crossed the line from the light to darkness and it grew eerie. The wind did not howl, the water did not hiss or splashed underneath the ship and the sails that accelerated the ship to their destination fell from the loss of wind. Just as Moscow continued on to the whirlpools, it froze in place, contributing to the stillness of the atmosphere around them. At the side of the ship, the whirlpools bayed, a total of six in an unnaturally straight line for Marya to choose from. Almost like the array of items she had seen at the port where she went shopping for her equipment.

Marya moved to the edge of the ship to peer into them but they were identical, each one a portal of nightmares. She swore she saw something move by the vortex’s but it could have been seafoam created by the velocity of the whirlpools. Hélène was not as daring to step on the edge so she peered over the sides and narrowed her eyes. She ignored the first two whirlpools at the sides, sensing the peril already and she inspected the remainder. Her eyes landed on one with an unequivocal stare.

“That’s it… That’s your door,” Hélène hesitated.

“You’re a miracle worker,” Marya praised, earning herself a smile from the mermaid. _The plan._ Clearing her throat, Marya jumped off the edge and onto the deck. “Mermaid, be a dear and get me my sword.”

“Is it in your chambers?” Hélène questioned, ready to go grab the requested item.

“On my study table, where I usually leave it,” Marya lied tepidly and watched as Hélène trotted to her chambers.

She had to do it fast. Tracking Hélène’s footsteps speedily, she waited until Hélène entered the room to close the door behind her. The door swung shut louder than she had wanted it to, her limbs grudging to cooperate with her, and Hélène spun around to look at Marya in incredulity. Marya’s hands trembled as she fumbled with the key to lock her in and the unsatisfying click of the door made Hélène mewl in trepidation. The small circular window at the door allowed Marya to see what her actions had done to Hélène and the distrust she had elicited. The doorknob rattled as she tried to open it but Marya did not give in. She did what she had to do.

“Captain, what are you doing?!” Hélène berated as she slammed the door with both fists.

“I have to do this alone…” Marya rasped and Hélène scoffed loudly.

“You don’t have to. Masha, please!” Hélène begged despairingly. “I can’t lose you…”

“And I can’t lose you too… Hélène, you’ve done so much to help us… For me and you don’t have a clue how much I care you and I wish there was a better way for me to express that.”

“If this is your goodbye, I swear to God, captain”-

“I love you, Hélène… I have never been more grateful to have someone like you in my life.”

At that, Hélène stiffened. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she slammed a fist against the door with a choke cry. “You can’t do this to me…”

“I have to go.”

“Marya, wait!”

Marya had already marched off with a new-found confidence but her unshed tears stung her eyes. Her sword dangled by her side from her sloppy footsteps as regret took its toll on her but she could not turn back now. Handing the key over to Mary, the scholar shoved it into her breast pocket and passed her book to a passing crew member to catch up with Marya. The captain uncapped a vial and drained it of its contents. Hanging from the bottle was a tag ‘underwater breath’, a produce of the marketplace at the hidden port that Marya had managed to purchase after befriending Svob. Marya could not be sure if the potion was working unless she was in the water but she trusted that it was in effect already. She peeled her coat off her shoulders, removed any loose accessories on her (not that she had many) then climbed onto the ledge of Moscow.

“Did you have to be so dramatic?” Mary probed as she stood by Marya’s legs.

“I had no choice. We would’ve argued,” Marya muttered.

Mary’s eyes raked over the ocean with a scowl. “Good luck… I can’t believe we made it this far.”

“Neither can I.” Marya wavered. “Take care of Hélène for me?”

“You’ll make it, Marya. Stop being so overly dramatic? I want to believe that you’ll get through this,” Mary whispered. “I’ll pray for you until I see you back on deck. You have 15 minutes until that potion wears off.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

Marya bent her knees then slackened her muscles to let herself drop into the whirlpool, and the ocean swallowed her. The tides tugged and yanked at her, and the pressure morphed into the form of a migraine that was threatening to cave her skull into her brain. The further the vortex brought her to the depths, the more painful it became but she withstood it. It was nothing like the other injuries that she had and she was more than sure that once she was down there, it would vanish. Well… Hopefully.

* * *

Hélène had dropped to her knees in the chambers, tight fists banging the locked door weakly as she dried the last of her tears. Her chest heaved for breaths from her hiccoughing and the drumming against the door calmed. Her palms flattened against the door and she pressed her forehead against the cold wood, still stupefied by the actions of that stupid captain. Her words replayed at the back of her head and the regret of not returning those words returned the tears to her blood-shot eyes. _I love you._ Why did she have to do that? Why did that fool of a captain have to act hero and crush her with the claim that she could not lose her? None of this was fair. Hélène knew that she would have been stubborn to accept Marya’s decision to go alone but it would have softened the blow of Marya’s words to save her from this foreign feeling of heartbreak.

Clambering to her feet, she peaked through the window where she had last seen the captain. With her gone, the crew mates sat idly on deck, anticipating. Mary sat underneath a mast, her hands clasped together and her head bowed low in prayer. Her lips enunciated the prayer in a soft murmur, rapid and messy, and some of the younger ones followed. Hélène could not disrupt the prayer to ask for the key to the door for she feared that interrupting them would break their pleas God to protect her lover who was probably close to the ocean floor with only her sword and faith to keep her goddaughter alive. A passing crew member halted in his steps when he saw Hélène frowning through the window but the mermaid retracted.

“I need to get out of here,” she spoke up meekly.

“No can do, Hélène. Captain gave orders to Mary to keep you in and that means it applies to the rest of us too,” he answered with a small shrug.

“Ataré, please- She won’t survive down there on her own. Trust me!” Hélène cried out but the crew member was unmoved.

“Captain’s orders,” he said in refusal. “I’m sorry, I really wish I could help you out but I can’t.”

“But”-

He left with his head low and Hélène slammed her head against the window. An idea struck her. Removing herself from the door, Hélène scrutinized the room. She retrieved her own personal sword from the bed and holstered it to her side unclothing herself of her skirt. The square window above their bed, only a few inches larger than the one that was at the door, was her escape. It had no hinges or knobs to open it but she had a plan mapped out in her head. Heaving the chair at the study table, she smashed it against the glass and it shattered after a few tries. The chair was sturdier than she had thought. Putting the chair down, she squeezed through the window, wincing and grimacing as the glass shards dug into her flesh. She would have spent some time removing the leftover glass that surrounding the sill but she did not have much left to spare. Her legs morphed into her tail and with a final wriggle, she tore herself away from the glass shards and dove head first into the ocean.

Behind her, just before Hélène went underwater, she heard the door swing open which was accompanied by Mary’s troubled shriek as she screamed for Hélène to come back. She had heard the racket Hélène was causing with the chair and the window. She had dismissed it at first but when it became repetitive, that was when she sprung into action but she was several knocks too late. When she returned, she would apologize to Mary for rebelling but there were times when it was better to disobey the rules than to follow them.

In her wake, Hélène left a trail of blood from the cuts and scratches the glass had embedded into her flesh. Still, she swam without a care, straight into the whirlpool that had devoured Marya. Unknowingly, the metallic scent of her blood attracted some ‘unfriendly fishes’. The emerged from the gloom of the false entrances, fangs bared and their beady eyes fixated on the flow of crimson that tailed the mermaid. In a horde, the monstrous creatures slithered and swam towards where the scent was stronger, tracking down the source with feral wildness. They had not had a taste of blood in a long time and with the failure of luring any more sailors towards the trap entrances, they were deprived of the sweet taste of flesh and that crimson delicacy. Hélène did not know what was coming for her and neither did Marya. But down they advanced to the ocean floor where the cure laid in a shrine surrounded by more ancient terrors that they were not aware of.


	13. Folded, From the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood,, gore

The vast blackness beyond her illuminated in decorative fluorescent coral reefs and rocks. Apparently, water breathing also came with the ability to see in the dark which was quite helpful now that Marya had set her own two feet at the bottom of the ocean. Above her was the end of the vortex that had sucked her into the gloom, an opaque ceiling of swimming shadows and swirling lights whose source she could not tell. The lights travelled in a cluster, almost like stars that swirled about the night sky but there was something bizarre about it that Marya could not put her finger on. Studying her surroundings, the end of the vortex where she had come from had dropped her into a dry and dimly lit passageway that led to the shrine that was only a stone’s throwaway from her. The vortex sputtered oxygen into the compact area, a funnel of wind that carried the breeze from above to supply her lungs. The fluorescent corals lined the pathway in the walls of water that were still, deceitfully replicating walls of ice to mock Marya’s feeling of security of being several leagues under the sea.

Skeletons protruded the sand, skulls of the victims who were caught by the jaws and the mysterious figures around her. Broken skulls sat barren of a body, some even attached to half-ripped spines that had most likely been torn from the bodies of unsuspecting fools. If she let her guard down, Marya would only add to the collection for the next voyager to find. A slab of limestone peaked out from the sand, with the symbols, ‘超越之道。如果您愿意，请输入’ which roughly translated to ‘Beyond lies the cure. Enter if you wish.’

Marya stuck a hand through the wall of water and it wobbled dangerously within a thin membrane that held it together. Withdrawing her hand, she did not realize what that childish doing had done. The membrane was a system that warned the lurking creatures of an intruder, the jiggling an alarm to alert them rather than sound that could not travel through the pressure of the water. Eels burst through the membranes on each side, slithering out of the water to dive into the opposite wall to reenter the waters it had emerged from. It had startled Marya but what terrified her the most was the fact that these eels were approaching her at full speed. They emerged then disappeared repeatedly, leaping across the walls of the passageway to block her path. It was in their minds to force the intruder back until she went past the walls and into the water where they had full advantage of slaughtering her since her swinging her sword would be useless. But that had not happened yet and these grotesque eels did not know the captain’s capabilities with a sword on land.

Drawing her sword, Marya did not hesitate to make a run for through the passageway. She kept her eyes on the shadows that snaked by her sides, ready to lunge for her. Her first blow came and she slice her sword through the monster with ease, its head sliding off of its elongated body. Purple liquid came spewing out of the stump of its neck and an odor exploded that fused with the already salty air, creating a hazardous stench that sent Marya hacking and coughing. She brought an arm to her nose and breathed through her mouth, never stopping in her tracks but she faltered upon seeing the gradual increase of silhouettes in the water and above her. A pincer the size of a barrel reached for her head from above but she ducked on time to evade the unnaturally sized crustacean. Then another came down for her with a sharp end of a leg that narrowly missed her foot. She dodged and rolled past the obstacles that were the limbs of the crustacean with no attempts or risks to break her sword by trying to stab through the solid shells. The eels came hot at her heels, teeth tearing away the cuffs of her pants where they had narrowly missed her the ankle of her boots. Killing the eels would only attract more, as proven by the one she had killed not long ago and the stench that it emitted still lingered.

Soon enough, the shrine came into view, a small architecture made of aquamarine stone with a single vial laying on a risen platform. There was nothing grand about it. The shrine reached to Marya’s knees and it was mildewed to emphasize on its age of centuries. It was substandard, but Marya was grateful that the pathetic vial the cure was kept in was not stored in a vault of some underwater sea castle. Something as overly dramatized as that would have infuriated her for then it would take her a few more days to search high and low for that tiny glass bottle.

Bending her knees, Marya threw herself through the arch that was the doorway to the area where the shrine was situated, her boot stolen away by an unlucky eel that missed its meal. Once she had entered the area, the shadows scattered away abruptly, and she could hear the creatures hissing and snapping away. The glowing corals in the water dulled but the aquamarine stones that built the shrine reflected the smallest hint of a glow that shone directly on the glass vial. There it was, the Zhìyù. The cure many men wasted their lives on in exhibition for it. It was so miniscule, it fit Marya’s hand perfectly and she could not resist losing another second of gawking at it. All she had to do was reach a hand out and take it. If it was toxic, she had her gloves to protect her vulnerable hands. She had never been more prepared. She knelt down before the shrine and her hand was already outstretched to take it when she heard footsteps behind her. She did not turn to look, not yet. Not until she got her hands on the vial.

“Marya! Stop”-

Marya stood to her feet, the vial in her hand. Before she could turn to meet Hélène’s panic stricken face, the ceiling caved in. The membrane dipped then erupted from the compulsion of the water that had turned it rigid. The water swept Marya into the dark and Hélène, who skidded to a halt in the passageway, screamed when the walls around her gave in. The water took her the same way that it had taken Marya but she was not concerned about herself. She rolled into the midnight blue, her legs transforming into a tail as the water tossed and churned her about. With a powerful flick of her tail, she regained herself and she set off to find Marya. Her senses were weaker in the presence of the shrine but she could hear Marya’s hammering heartbeat at the back of her head, loud and clear. The eels that had tried to attack Marya previously came to assault Hélène but she had better control of her sword in the water. She skewered a number of them through the head in one stab then retreated from the patch of purple that stained the water to tempt the hungry lurkers for dinner. Hélène heard a crunch, then squelches as her fallen foes were consumed and she feared that Marya would meet the same fate if she failed to find her.

“Marya?! Can you hear me?!” Hélène yelled; her voice amplified by soundwaves.

Then there was a sharp beat in her head. A booming bang, and the pulses became weak. Hélène plunged into the black canvas of the sea towards where she could feel the heartbeats. And she smelled blood. It was not a normal amount that came from a stab wound or a bite. The scent was so concentrated, Hélène had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat, forcing down a gag that ached in chest. _Oh God._ She continued faster, swimming after the blood where it was stronger until she crashed into a body that floated about in a school of creatures. Eels, serpents, sharks and crustaceans circling the body and nipping at the clothing. The source of the heartbeat and the blood. Hélène released a soundwave that send creatures dispersing in fear and Hélène swung her sword to rid of the ones who refused to budge or tried to return to feast on the body.

Hélène grabbed Marya by her torso and pulled her close, examining her for the source of blood. Every other part of her was untouched but that did not compensate for how deathly cold she had become. The excessive bleeding came from the disconnected joint where her left arm should have been. It was gone, from where it was supposed to be just past her elbow. Bitten off by a larger serpent that was only playing its part of defending the cure but it had left the women to be fish food.

Holding her tightly, Hélène swam for the surface, kicking her tail with all her might. She would press her lips to Marya to supply her the oxygen that she was deprived of to keep her alive but the bleeding did not keep her hopes up. The black slowly brightened to a navy blue then turquoise, and she could feel her tail numbing from overwork. Past the turquoise came the sky as she burst through the surface above the waves where the sun was now shining above them. The decoy clouds had disappeared when the cure had been seized by the captain and the once-still ocean was now in motion. The whirlpools had disappeared but the creatures had not and Hélène waved her sword around her to prevent the predators from even grazing their slimy bodies against them. A net was thrown down from the Moscow for some men to use it as a ladder to help the ladies back on board, some gasping and moaning when they saw their unconscious captain.

On deck, the men who had carried Marya up laid her flat on the ground on her back and Hélène untangled herself from the net to be by her side. Mary, who had brought a very distressed Svob, scampered to the scene and screeched at the amount of blood that was seeping from Marya’s missing arm. Hélène felt for any sign of life, hands groping Marya’s wrists to feel her pulse and her head resting on her chest to hear for a heartbeat. Nothing.

“No… No- You can’t be…” Hélène wailed. “Captain, come back to me, please…”

“Is she…” Mary croaked as she knelt down beside Hélène, eyes brimming with tears. “Oh…”

Her chest did not rise or fall nor did her eyes flicker as droplets of water dripped from her lashes to slide off her skin. She did not wake to Hélène’s sobs as she cried against her chest, and her lips did not part to respond when Hélène screamed for her to wake up. She pleaded and begged, crying out that her crew needed her and that her goddaughters were waiting for her back at home. To no avail, she did not stir. Hélène needed her, but no matter the strength of that need, nothing was going to bring her back. Hélène held Marya in her arms and pulled her to her chest in noiseless, convulsive sobs, her small frame trembling. Mary turned away to dry her tears within her hands, a few others joining her in tears as they stared mournfully at their captain.

“You said you’d be careful. You didn’t even say goodbye”- Hélène hiccupped as she rubbed her misty eyes- “I didn’t… I didn’t even get the chance to tell you how much I love you. You selfish idiot…”

Svob slid out of Mary’s hands and onto Marya’s leg, making his way up her to her face when his tentacle brushed against a solid item in her pocket. There, he rummaged through Marya’s pocket and produce the vial that Marya had taken from the shrine, holding it up to Mary who felt a surge of hope. She picked the octopus up with her hands and took the vial from him with pure fascination and faith. It took a while for the others to comprehend what it was and they imploded into a flurry of whispers, relieved and triumphant that they had gotten what they came for. And this meant that there was a fragment of hope to save their captain.

Hélène lifted her head to look at the vial that Mary had uncapped for her. It was not much but it was enough to save her captain with some to spare for Natasha. Taking it, she tipped it over Marya’s lips, a trickle drizzling into her mouth. She returned it to Mary who requested that someone brought it to Marya’s chambers for safekeeping, in one of the drawers and they acted quick. Those who remained waited; but as it prolonged, Hélène’s fists curled tighter around Marya’s shirt, and the light in her eyes was snuffed out. Her arm had healed but it did not regenerate. She did not open her eyes or show even a speck of an indication that she was living and breathing.

Mary took a hysterical Hélène into her arms who screamed her heart out as anguish ate away at her. The scholar held onto Hélène and murmured comforting words to her, that it was going to be okay but she knew full well that it was not. Natasha and Sonya had lost a godmother, Hélène lost her lover and they lost a captain. They lost a loved one. All heads lowered and their hands clasped together in front of them, the only sound filling the air being Hélène’s cries.

Svob crawled to sit on Marya’s shoulder, pressing his tiny body against her neck against where her pulse was and hugged her loosely. **A beat** , and Svob leapt off of her neck at the drum of the heavy pulse. Marya coughed out a mouthful of a water and jolted upright which startled the living hell out of everyone who had not expected the sudden movement. She pounded her chest with her fist as she took deep intakes of breath, perplexed and stupefied by what had happened. Hélène spun around to look at Marya who turned to look at her with a look of bewilderment. She could only remember hearing Hélène call her name then the cold touch of the glass vial in her warm hands, then everything blacked out. Hélène’s red eyes and quaking body concerned her and she opened her mouth to ask if she was alright when the mermaid latched herself onto the captain in another round of sobs.

“What-?” was all Marya managed when Hélène squeezed her.

“I love you, Marya. I love you so fucking much,” Hélène cried as she hung from Marya’s neck, her arms thrown around her.

“Language, mermaid…” Marya jested as she pulled Hélène into her lap, wrapping her arm around her. “I love you too…”

“You’re alive!” Mary cheered and she raised her arms up to the Gods in thanks. “Thank heavens! And you got the cure!”

“Don’t ruin their moment, Mary,” someone tutted as they poked Mary’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Marya inquired as she looked around at her crew whose eyes were red and puffy, and smiles stretched to their cheeks.

“We’ll tell you later… It’s a lot to take in,” Mary sighed as she knelt down to hug Marya.

“I’ll take you for your word,” Marya mumbled, exchanging a glance with Hélène who was wiping her tears away.

Marya withdrew her arm from Mary to cup Hélène’s cheek, wiping her tears away with her thumbs before kissing her forehead. Hélène burrowed herself into the taller woman, with no intention of letting go. Sobs still wracked her body but exhaustion overwhelmed her at the same time from the swimming, the screaming and the tears. To lose someone she loved, that was an experience that scarred her intensely. Marya held on to Hélène, cursing at herself for acting so stupidly before but at least it was worth the risk of flying solo. However, had Hélène been locked up in her chambers still when she was in great peril, she would have lost her life and the cure both to the ocean.

She got the cure, the little item that costed her arm but it was going to save the life of her goddaughter. Natasha would be well again and she would not have to be away from them anymore on some lengthy voyage. She was free of this labor, this burden that had been weighing on her for too long. She could finally breathe again. And she was going to return with somebody she loved. Then her heart clenched. She would have to let Hélène go once they were home. She had a family to return to, a wedding to attend and a fiancé. The separate lives they would have to live, both without one another. They still had the voyage back and it was the only time left that they had together. Marya was grateful for that but they would have to hasten home to reach Natasha on time and that would mean losing Hélène sooner.

She looked at the mermaid who gazed up at her with pitiful eyes, and Marya leaned in to kiss her. They stayed like that, not too mindful of the onlookers who were gushing at their little romance. They pulled away after a while to stare at each other and Hélène ran her hands through Marya’s wet locks of hair gently. A blanket draped over their shoulders and the crew members headed to their posts to set sail away from this nightmare of a place. No one bothered the captain and her mermaid, and they sat on the deck, engulfed in a thick comforter while clinging on to each other in silence. Although Marya was not one for public displays of affection, she could not resist showering Hélène in kisses. Several on her forehead then her cheeks and a final one on her lips. Hélène leaned into her and pulled the blanket around them tighter, giggling and sighing away with joy.

The sun was setting in the distance, the sky a flaming red with few clouds that blocked out the rays. The waters were calm and the wind blew gently over them to assist Moscow’s journey back home. It was cooling enough to be enjoyable for it was not too chilly, and the crew looked forward to the night breeze that would come after a day of heat and humidity. The blanket shielded the soaked lovers, the sunlight making their eyes glimmer in love and adoration for one another. Hélène trapped Marya in her arms protectively, worried that if she released her, she would lose her again.

“Mermaid, I have a question…”

“Yes?”

“Where the fuck is my arm?”

“Now you’re one for language.”


	14. We Were Reeds

The journey home did not feel as long as it took to sail to the Asian seas. It had taken them months to reach the cure but returning was a few weeks, and it did not feel fair to either Hélène or Marya who longed to spend more time with one another before they parted. Mary had seen how they spent every waking minute glued to each other with Hélène often clinging to Marya wherever she went. They chatted, they laughed, they gazed at the stars. Marya too did not seem too willing to misspend any available time without her partner. Whenever Hélène left Marya’s side to allow the captain to go about with her duties, Marya would complete her tasks rapidly then hurry to her lover who sat at the same spot every day waiting for her captain. Though, no one would interrupt their precious moments. This could be their very last moments together for all they knew and no one wanted to ruin any of them. Even when the moon was setting to let the sun rise to declare the start of a new day, Mary would hear them talking in hushed voices, muffled from hiding underneath a blanket that had been set up like a tent.

They would use their swords to hold the sheet up on each end to make some space for them within the extra roof, a mini lantern in between them and Svob’s tank in Hélène’s lap. They would talk the night away until one of them passed out from sleepiness, which was always Hélène and Marya would only sleep once she was sure that the mermaid was fast asleep. Despite sleeping later, Marya would be the first to rise to conduct her crew but Hélène would awaken shortly after to the cold vacant side where she would expect Marya to be. Their connection was unbreakable, and the crew felt a twinge of sympathy for them as they neared home. It was a joyous thing to be back home with their feet on solid land again, and Marya could not deny that she was excited to return to her goddaughters but anyone would be able to see the hurt in her eyes when she smiled at the sight of the docks. It was bittersweet, and Marya wanted to spit out the complicating taste of it. Hélène did not look too optimistic and she did not bother masking up the frown as she walked onto the platform of the docks, arm-in-arm with Marya.

Hélène donned the clothes Marya had found her in the first time they met, her human clothes packed up in Marya’s luggage to take home with her since the mermaid would have no use of them underwater. As her good arm was occupied in Hélène’s, Mary handled the luggage for there was not much to fuss about. The crew members jogged past the couple onto dry land, giddily waving goodbye to their captain and their mermaid friend before dashing home to their families but some of them grouped to celebrate their success at the nearest diner with Mary. They had invited Marya and Hélène but they declined for they were to wait at the docks for Pierre to show up. Long before they docked the ship, Hélène had sent a message to Pierre through a kind sea creature that happened to be passing the ship which was a bottlenose dolphin who enthusiastically accepted Hélène’s request to deliver the message of her whereabouts and where Pierre was to pick her up. Hélène preferred him coming for her rather than her own father. She would have sent for Anatole but there was a high chance that her father would tag along to retrieve her and she did not want him sticking his nose into her business with the captain.

So, they waited for the merman to appear by the coast, seated on the sand quietly. Hélène whistled to an old tune, the one that she had heard from the gramophone during her first dance with Marya. Marya draped an arm around Hélène loosely, her eyes trained on her with sad fondness. Her fiancé would arrive any time now, the merman she belonged to rightfully. Hélène was not hers, and she never could be, not when a golden band bounded her to another. It felt wrong and Marya did not know if she could face the man with the same old captain-y pride she would wear upon meeting strangers. It was a punishable sin to love another who was betrothed and pursuing that love added to the consequences of the sin. This had been foolish of them. They knew that they would part ways but their persistence only pushed them closer to the point that letting go became excruciating.

Marya kissed Hélène’s temple then nuzzled into her hair with a disheartened huff. “I’m… I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too… very much, captain,” Hélène returned as she turned to look at Marya, pressing a bold kiss on her lips. “I could always come visit you…”

“You’ll have your own life to lead and I wouldn’t want to be in your way,” Marya muttered dejectedly.

“But you’re part of my life. I could never toss you aside!” Hélène exclaimed, but Marya laughed in reply.

“I wish I could be more than just a part of it, mermaid,” Marya admitted, and Hélène felt a pang of pain in her chest. “Things come and go, and this is no exception.”

“Please, stop it. We will see each other somewhere in the future, I’m sure of it. Neither of us are dead yet. Don’t make this our final goodbye,” Hélène moaned as dropped her head against Marya’s chest.

“I’m not… At least we would have exchanged our goodbyes,” Marya added but Hélène groaned in refusal. “I’m sorry, love… I wish there was more I could do.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” Hélène murmured and looked up with tears glimmering in her eyes, but the widest and brightest smile on her lips.

“Mermaid, I’ve done nothing for you; unless you consider abducting and stealing you from your family as something,” Marya tutted.

“No, you silly woman. This is going to sound cheesy but you showed me what it was like to be loved… You stole me out of the dark, you gave me an adventure of a lifetime and… You taught me how to love. You saved me, captain, and I don’t know if you realize that. I don’t think I could ever repay you for all you’ve given to me,” Hélène rambled sheepishly.

Marya, who was flustered to the core, smile and pecked her lips. “You saved my life, and you gave me your love. That’s all I ever need.”

Hélène would have swooped Marya in for a kiss but at the corner of her eye, she could see a recognizable brooding figure stepping out of the water ungainly, trying to coordinate his legs to keep himself upright. He walked awkwardly while his hands focused on prying out the kelp in his unkempt hair, cursing and spluttering out the water that rained from his ruffled hair. Hélène stood up then helped Marya up to meet her fiancé who had given up walking after a long swim to the shore. He bent over to pant softly, catching a breath of the air above the water and he had to admit that it was not as unpleasant as he had predicted it to be. The clean and fresh air of the land was better than the stuffiness of the ocean, and it made breathing a lot easier to Pierre’s relief. Recharging his stamina, he unfolded himself from the way he had bended over to clasp his knees to look at the women approaching him. He adjusted his glasses and made her way to them, chuckling in relief to see that Hélène was unharmed.

Upon seeing Marya’s stern gaze, he wanted to cower away. The menacing fire in her eyes terrified him for the only other person he knew whose gaze was equivalent to hers was Vassily but what calmed him was her smile that contradicted with evident softness. From what the dolphin had narrated to him of their adventure, this was the same woman who had kidnapped and taken care of Hélène but it was all for the cause of saving a beloved one which he understood thoroughly. He did not have any reason to despise her, but he was surprised that Hélène had been willing to help out a stranger. Examining her from head to toe, Pierre finally fathomed out why the redheaded woman was so familiar. From his books, he had read the tales of a female captain whose illustrations were identical to the person in front of him. The tales recounted her many adventures to the seven seas and encounters with other famous captains who returned looted and worn after a losing battle with the woman. Hélène could have been in great peril but if she was standing beside the captain unscathed, she was undoubtedly on her good side.

“Captain, this is my fiancé, Pierre Bezukhova,” Hélène introduced as she stood in between the two of them. “Pierre, this is Captain Akhrosimova.

“Marya will do. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Bezukhova. I see you’re the _lucky_ one who’s wedding this wonderful maiden,” Marya greeted with a warm smile, reaching a hand out to shake Pierre’s hand. Lucky?

“I-I know who you are, yes. I have books that have stories about you and it’s such an honor to meet you,” Pierre stuttered, bowing his head as he shook her hand.

“I never knew you were famous,” Hélène teased and Marya swatted a hand at her.

“It’s flattering to know that my stories were intriguing enough to be published in written works,” Marya joked with a light shrug.

“You’re the first and only female captain out on the seas. Your stories must be told!” Pierre argued. “It’s one of the most splendid things that has ever happened in this century.”

“If you keep feeding her ego like that, you’re going to regret it,” Hélène warned and Pierre clamped his mouth shut.

“Aw, I was enjoying myself,” Marya sulked mockingly.

“A sense of humor was quite unexpected,” Pierre mumbled awkwardly.

“I know how to have a good laugh, my dear, but for the sake of my reputation, I tend to keep it within myself,” Marya explained calmly. “Now, I’m sure you two have a lot to do for your wedding after that horrible delay that I caused and I apologize.”

“Don’t you want to get acquainted?” Hélène asked meekly.

“No need. We could always meet again,” Marya excused.

“You don’t have to apologize, captain. As long as Hélène is back safely, I think we’re alright,” Pierre replied. “If we could, I would invite you to the wedding but I don’t think Hélène’s father would be very thrilled to have a human around.”

Hélène rolled her eyes. “I forgot about him… I hope to see you soon, captain.”

“I hope so too.”

Marya wanted to end their departure quickly. She did not want to see Hélène and her fiancé together hand in hand, and the yearning in Hélène’s eyes made her feel no better. She was happy for them, most especially for Pierre who had won himself a woman like no other, however he did that. The ache in her heart stung and it stabbed at her the longer she stood there as an outcast among the merfolk. Hélène and Pierre shared a few words and Marya caught something along the lines of ‘Go to the water, I’ll join you in a bit.’ Pierre trotted off into the water and Hélène faced Marya with melancholy glazing her expression.

“This is it…” Hélène whispered tearfully.

“It is… Be careful, okay?” Marya asserted, earning a nod from Hélène.

“Yes, ma’am. And you too.”

“What about Svob? Aren’t you taking him with you?” Marya queried and Hélène took her hand in hers.

“I think he’s better off with you… Keep him as a reminder of me,” Hélène murmured as she kissed Marya’s knuckles.

“Mermaid”-

“Take care of our son for me?” Hélène hummed, smiling at Marya lovingly.

“O-our son?” Marya stammered, her cheeks reddening lightly. “Of course…”

Hélène embraced Marya one last time, pressing a sneaky kiss onto her cheek as she held on to her. Marya held Hélène tightly and gave her a squeeze, laughing when Hélène let out a small squeak and a giggle. They stared into each other’s eyes, taking in the other’s features in fear that they would forget the beauty of their lover. Eyes traced and trailed every inch, curve and line of skin, smiles growing into sorrowful whispers as they assured themselves that they would find each other again. Hélène hid her tears well as she pulled away from Marya with the utterance of a quiet goodbye as she made her way to Pierre who had been observing them.

Pierre saw the look in their eyes. He could see every ounce of care, fondness and love oozing from their gazes alone, and it saddened him to know that Hélène had to part with her happiness. He had never seen his own fiancé as cheerful in his arms as compared to when she was in the captain’s. He had never seen Hélène joke and jest with him the way she did with Marya. Most of all, he had never seen her so disheartened to leave someone. The bottleneck dolphin that had been sent to deliver Hélène’s message spoke of how incredible her journey was, but there was never the mention of how much she missed her family. For Anatole, she had but for anyone else, there was not a word of it; but Pierre did not feel jealous. Instead, he berated himself for being the conflict and barrier that was preventing Hélène from getting what she deserved, and he cursed at Vassily for restricting them from pursuing what they pleased. There had to be something he could do.

Waving goodbye, the merfolk took their leave and the last thing Marya saw was the glow of Hélène’s tail as she splashed into the darker depths of the ocean, fading away into the rolling waves. She left the beach with her head held high but her heart had fallen into the pit of her stomach to dissolve away. She boarded the Moscow for she had no mood to join Mary and her comrades at the diner nearby to save them the sight of their heartbroken captain. She could always wait for them to finish before Mary and her returned home to Natasha and Sonya who were still unaware that their godmother had returned. Some time alone was what she needed to recover.

Sliding into her chambers, Svob chirped awake at the company and bubbles floated to the surface in glee. Marya slumped into her seat with a dry smile, holding a hand out to Svob for him to climb out onto her palm. As he did, she noticed something peculiar about Svob. He had been accessorized with a necklace that was obviously not designed to fit him. It was made of thread that had been braided intricately with a lone mermaid scale hanging from a small silver hoop. A metallic green scale. Svob sat on Marya’s hand with eyes that looked like he was grinning at her and he removed the necklace to hold it out to Marya.

“For me?” Marya questioned. Placing Svob down, she picked the necklace up to inspect it.

Marya recalled seeing a mermaid scale at the market, a necklace almost identical to the one in her hand but the one at the market had been made of gold and silver, while this one was made of thread and a poorly shaped hoop. A mermaid’s scale was a charm that could allow someone to possess the abilities of a mermaid, such as being able to feel the presence of what was underwater, but there was a limit of perks one could have. After much studying, Marya sniffled softly and slid the necklace over her head to join the locket that had been given to her from Natasha. She held the scale to her lips and looked at Svob who had moved up her shoulder to pat her cheek affectionately.

“It’s from your mother,” Marya murmured and Svob stroked a tentacle over her cheek, nodding his head in tiny bobs.

Marya did not cry but the heartache was enough to make her crouch over in her seat, wrapping her arm around herself to comfort herself of the absence of her mermaid’s warmth. She sniffled again and Svob inched closer to provide his own cold comfort with his miniscule body. She had never felt lonelier. Even with her goddaughters, Marya was trapped in a hole of her own isolation and abandonment of love, and she was frightened that she would never climb out of it ever again. Not without her mermaid. Marya Dmitrievna was never scared, but without someone to hold her up, her trepidation pulled her back into the darkness. And she fell into that never ending hole. Where it ended, Marya would never know and she did not want to. 

“God… I miss her so much.”


	15. The Time for Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my- There's more? :D

Months had gone by swiftly. The cure had saved Natasha and the girl refused to return to her bed, to make up for lost time for the entire duration of her bed-ridden days. Sonya could finally catch the break that she deserved and all of the sleep she had been deprived of. What made everything better was Mary being in her arms again. When Marya and Mary returned from the docks to surprise their waiting family, Sonya had burst into sobs at the sight of Mary, her eyes rimmed in dark circles that signified the loss of sleep. As for dear Natasha, she could have leapt to her feet to embrace her godmother if she had the strength to. With the cure taken, Natasha was up and about within seconds and Marya enveloped her goddaughter in a tight hug, but her missing arm alarmed Natasha greatly.

And so, sitting by the fire place with a kettle of tea boiling just above the flames, Marya told her goddaughters the story of mythical creatures, unnatural disasters and of a certain mermaid but she went no further into detail of her own love life. Reciting it would only add to the pain that was swelling in her chest but the way Natasha responded in pure awe to the mermaid compensated for the sadness that slowly faded away. At first, Natasha had been skeptical about Marya’s mermaid story until she was introduced to Svob who was exhilarated to meet more family. Then there was the mermaid scale that sat on Marya’s chest, hanging from the braid of thread which Natasha took gently in her hands to scrutinize. Sonya laid upon Mary’s lap, the scholar holding onto her lover firmly as they listened to Marya’s tale. Sometimes, Mary would chime in to add her own side of the story which would make Sonya giggle; even though there was nothing funny about it. It was the perfect resolution to end the tale, but what about Hélène?

* * *

Dark brown hues stared through the itchy veil that had cascaded over her face. Her hair had been done up in a neat but frustrating bun that was rather uncharacteristic of her as no careless curls spilled out in various angles as they normally would. Her dress was entirely white, absent of her signature metallic green gauze that matched her tail. Or even a shred of green. The only thing that was green was the bouquet in her hands from the stems of land flowers made to sustain underwater, a funny addition to the completely aquatic wedding. Hélène tried to be exuberant about her big day. This was another milestone in her life, one she would have to get past in order to get to the next at the control of her father’s hands. Her life was moving far too quickly to her liking but it was not a choice for her to calm the pace her father had set for her. Kuragins developed quick to keep up with society and this was her chasing after the norms to be accepted in their community of rich thriving mermaids. Marrying Pierre was a tactic of social climbing her father had managed to attain, and she was the mediator that would piece everything together. Their bond would mean getting Pierre’s fortune, but she did not want that. The only wealth she wanted if she were to wed someone was love. She wanted someone who would reciprocate the undying love she had for them but that woman was elsewhere. Somewhere on land with a family of her own. That captain may have forgotten her already, but that was okay. Life moved on anyway, and so would she.

Adjusting her veil, she heard the door creak open behind her without so much a knock but she did not acknowledge the person who she had guessed was Anatole. Her brother often came in unannounced, the fashionable ways of that man that Hélène could never really argue against. Why would today be an exception from that? Placing the bouquet aside, she was surprised to find a hand on her shoulder, far too large to be Anatole’s and she spun around to identify the person. Pierre had taken her side, a sad smile on his lips with reason that was irrelevant to the wedding. He was not dressed properly in the outfit Vassily had chosen out for him but instead wore his usual gold colored vest over a white crisp shirt, his hair unkempt and frizzy as it always was.

“Pierre, don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” Hélène asked with a joking air. "Why aren't you dressed?"

Pierre cracked a laugh. “It isn’t bad luck if there isn’t going to be a wedding.”

Hélène narrowed her eyes at him, her jaw falling open. “What? W-what do you mean?”

Unpinning the veil from Hélène’s hair, he placed it aside with the flowers to look at her in the eyes; and she stared back. “Ah… What is the point of marrying each other if there isn’t even a bit of love?”

Hélène understood. “You know very well of my father’s arrangements. It was never about love.”

“But you love someone, don’t you?” Pierre inquired.

Hélène hesitated. “I don’t… I could never.”

“You don’t have to hide it, Hélène. I saw the way you looked at the captain, and the way she looked at you. The love that you two shared in your gazes alone, it’s more than we’ll ever have in a lifetime if we were married,” Pierre murmured to her tenderly, reaching a hand up to stroke her cheek.

“What are you implying?”

“Go to her… Remember all those talks about finding our happiness and pursuing them?” Hélène nodded tractably and Pierre smiled. “You’ve found yours and I don’t want to get in your way. Do this for yourself.”

“But my father?” Hélène whispered diffidently.

“Leave him to me. If he wants to get my fortune, he should have the brains to thread carefully and listen. Now go. This is your life, not his. You love someone, you go and get them. Why waste the months you spent building your love for her?” Pierre encouraged.

Hélène could have cried but she pulled Pierre into a tight hug instead. “Thank you, Pierre. Thank you…”

Pierre pressed a kiss to her head and sighed softly, grinning triumphantly to himself. “You’re most welcome. Now, come on. We haven’t a moment to lose. You need to go before your father discovers that you had a hand in this plan.”

Hélène swam to her closet, stripping herself of the wedding gown to her casual clothes that she could breath in. “I’ll pack my things quickly. Again, thank you.”

“Pack the things that you need, only the necessities. Good luck.”

“I hope you find your happiness too,” Hélène called out as Pierre exited the room, responding with a thumbs-up.

Now that she was left alone with a sudden surge of ascendancy in her hands, she materialized a rucksack from her closet, shoving the essentials that she would need above the water. She was not going to misuse the time that she had now while Pierre forged a distraction to avert her father’s attention away. Now was the moment she would take her life into her own hands and shape it the way she wanted to be. She should have grown out of her father years ago but his sticky fingers were always a challenge to pry away from. With Pierre, he had done it just for her only for him to land in her place as a replacement. If she could help him, she would but doing that now would be a foolish attempt.

She rummaged her room for her things, mentally preparing a list of what she needed. For clothes, she could always go shopping for them as her existing wardrobe was not too appropriate to dress in the human eye. She holstered her sword by her waist, snatched a few more things then went to clean up the remains of what had barely been the wedding. The dress was stuffed away unceremoniously in a chest, her veil hung from the post of her bed and the flowers were returned to the vase it had lived in for months. She tried to clothe herself as decently as possible, a plain green shirt over a skirt that would cover her legs when she turned human but the combination was almost revolting. It was convenient and that was the only matter she should consider.

The door flung open again but this round, it was Anatole who had heard the news. He wailed like a baby and hugged his older sister tightly. He had only gotten her back and now she was leaving again. He whined and complained rhetorically about why she had to keep leaving and returning, and Hélène only laughed at his childishness. The very grown man sulked against his sister’s neck, arms engulfing her waist tightly for her did not want her to leave but eventually, he released her.

“You’re leaving… But at least you’ll be happy and I am so proud of you,” Anatole sniveled as he wiped away a tear, the water beating him to it.

“Thank you, Tolya. I won’t be gone forever, you know?” Hélène assured him as she ruffled his hair. “You could always write to me and we’ll meet up.”

“That is if Papa allows,” Anatole groaned.

“But you have Pierre by your side. Papa isn’t stupid enough to cross him,” Hélène told him and that elicited a small grin.

“I’ll see you soon then. You’d better invite me to your wedding. I expect to be your best man,” Anatole teased as he pinched Hélène’s cheek.

“You’re jumping a little too far ahead, Tolya,” Hélène scolded but Anatole snorted.

“You say that but I’ll probably find a wedding invitation in the mail in a while,” Anatole chirped, ducking his head when Hélène smacked him flat on the forehead. “Meanie!”

“Baby,” Hélène retorted.

Anatole chewed on the insides of his cheeks in surrender but then held a pouch out to Hélène. “Maman told me to give these to you for when you go.”

“She knows?”

“Of course, she does, and she supports you whole-heartedly. These are just some snacks for your journey to the port. She would have given them to you herself but she decided to lend Pierre a hand with papa.”

Hélène accepted the pouch, putting it into her slightly empty rucksack. “Tell her I said thank you… and that I’ll miss her.”

“Not as much as you’ll miss me, no doubt.” Another smack sounded. 

“Stop ruining the mood."

"But it's true, isn't it?" Anatole pressed on pridefully. 

"I hate to admit it but it is..." Hélène scoffed and Anatole swooped her into his arms for another hug. 

"There it is... I'll miss you very much, sister. I truly will," Anatole mumbled into her hair, dropping the clown act he tried to cheer himself up with.

"I'm not going to be gone forever. I'll come back and if there is a wedding, you're the first one I'll send an invite to. And you can invite Fedya as your plus one," Hélène hummed as she kissed Anatole's cheek. 

"I'd like that very much," Anatole said, clapping his hands in delight. "I shouldn't hold you back any longer. So, the window?"

"The classic window escape," Hélène admitted, swimming over to the hole in the wall that they called a 'window'. 

"Stay safe and send my regards!" Anatole exclaimed. 

Sitting on the ledge of the window, Hélène grinned and winked at him. "Will do, brother. I love you loads."

"Love you loads too, sister."

Leaning back, Hélène fell from the window and into the shrubs of kelp, not that she needed them to cushion her fall. She just loved a little bit of a flair in her escape. Swimming out of the limbs of the plants, she waved goodbye to Anatole and took off. She knew where to go for the path was nearly familiar to her. When Pierre guided her from the port back home just months ago, she sketched a cognitive map in her head and revised it over and over again so that she did not forget where her lover was. She had held on to the hope that she would see her again and now she was on her way to find her. The journey would not take long if she maintained her speed. She forbade herself from taking any breaks in between and if she was hungry, she would eat while she swam. Her determination pushed her, and her tail lashed and whipped the waves fiercely to bring her to her destination. 

The blur of the port came into view and Hélène bobbed her head out of the water to see if the Moscow was parked where it normally was. To her dismay, it was not. She had gone but that did not diminish her spirits. Marya was a pirate, her life was out on the sea. She was bound to take her leave after a hiatus as nothing could ever part her from the ravenous waves and storms that sent her adrenaline running feral. Some part of Hélène felt glad that Marya still had the passion to brave the monstrosity of the ocean even after the events long ago that caused her to lose an arm, and her life almost. The memory sent a shudder down Hélène's back. They would never have to return to those forbidden oceans anymore for there was no purpose and the shrine had already been destroyed after its treasure had been taken. It had no more purpose to stand and occupy a fraction of the ocean. 

Wherever Marya was, Hélène would find her. Emerging from the water, her tail transformed into legs and she jogged up to the nearest ship, a little boat of a fisherman who had just docked. The man whistled as he polished his prized vessel, storing away the equipment he did not require and dusting a few specks of sand off of the ship with a lazy hand. At the side of the boat was a poorly painted name that spelled 'the Troika' and Hélène figured it was done by the man himself. A satisfactory effort but it did not seem like the man minded for the ship was perfection to him. He patted the side of the ship, whipped out a stool and sat down beside it to have his dinner. Hélène did not know whether to disturb but the man had spotted her through his bizarre fur hat. Brushing a hand to clean his beard from the food that had dribbled from his mouth, he waved the mermaid over with a drunken grin. 

"How can I help you, lady?" he asked with a mouthful of food. 

"I don't mean to interrupt your dinner but I was wondering if you knew where the Moscow has voyaged off to," Hélène mused as she padded over to the fisherman. 

"The straits of Malacca. They only left yesterday. Said something like trading and touring but I dunno. You got business with the Missy of Moscow?" he prodded and took a swig of champagne straight from the bottle. 

"You could say that. I'm just an old friend of hers and I was hoping to find her here but I guess I'm a day too late," Hélène shrugged as she twisted the ends of her curls. 

"It ain't ever too late. They couldn't have gotten far in a day. You can catch up if you start now," the fisherman pointed out. 

"Then I should get going! The straits of Malacca you said?" Hélène repeated. 

The man nodded and he jabbed a fork into his sloppy food. "Southeast Asia. That's your place. Dunno why she wanted to go there again after her fiasco. What a woman."

"She's strange, isn't she?" Hélène laughed fondly. 

"Strange is an understatement but she writes the history of women empowerment and I respect her for that. Anyhow, anywho, she's a weird lady," the man continued.

"That's why she's special in her own way. I just want to see her again," Hélène grumbled and threw her hands in the air.

The man caught her drift and smirked at her cheekily. "The world ain't too big. You'll find her."

"How can you be so sure?" 

"If that captain can find a cure, beat death in the ass, and cure tuberculosis, you can find a woman." He patted her chest, cleaning the stains his food had left. 

"That is quite true... Thank you, sir. 

"No problem. Now go before I change my mind on that. I got my dinner to finish and you have a woman to get."

"Alright! Enjoy your dinner. I owe you one, sir!"

"No need. Good luck on your endeavors. I hope you find your missy."

"My-- Nevermind. Again, thank you!"

Hélène returnd to the beach and trudged through the waves that rolled to the shore to get to the deeper end. Her legs morphed back into her tail and she was off. She held on to the man's words. The world was not too big, he said, and she sure prayed that he was right. Fate had been terribly unkind to her but with this change in tides, perhaps his words could be very true. Her senses made it all easier to navigate the way to her captain. She just had to catch up with the speed of the Moscow and having experienced Marya's sailing first-hand, the woman was all business and she could race against the wind with that enormous ship of hers. Marya had the wind on her side but Hélène had the ocean and its residents to help her make her journey. It would take days or even weeks for her to catch the ship that was piloted by a dozen of hands and the breeze of nature's wind. Even if she did not catch the ship, she could always meet her captain at the straits of this Malacca place the fisherman had spoken about. She was going to see her again and she could not be happier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end... 
> 
> I'm kidding :)


	16. Epilogue: When Will I Be Loved?

Anchored in the middle of the ocean, somewhere at the Asian seas where it was safer than where Moscow had ventured off to before, Natasha and Marya lounged on the deck with a mat to lay upon. The sky was clear, a brilliant baby blue with a spot of blinding yellow and white that was the sun. There were no clouds to shade them but the crew was ready with fans, beverages and coats to refresh themselves on this tranquil day. Seagulls cawed as they flew overhead, unbothered by the obstruction that was on the water but some in the flock landed on the masts to rest their exhausted wings. The wind came and went, but no one complained as they were invested in their own activities and conversations. 

Mary and Sonya were below deck, reading books as they shared a hammock that was surprisingly strong enough to support the two ladies. The crew members played their games while singing to the songs that blasted from the gramophone but some hid underneath a layer of coats to shield their intolerant reddening skin from the rays of sun. Natasha sat upright, holding Svob's tank against her chest where she had settled her hat on top of to shield the small creature from the scorching heat. She would throw her head back in laughter whenever the crew members did something silly as they played their games, yelling and cheering for them with glee. It was her first time out at sea, and it was all thanks to her godmother who had successfully persuaded her father to let her explore the world. The weeks on the Moscow had been more eventful and exciting than the balls she had attended when she was a child, and she would never trade her place with anyone else, no matter how luxurious. Marya, on the other hand, shielded her eyes with her arm and her head rested on top of her coat that had been folded up nicely into a makeshift pillow. 

Natasha reached a hand into Svob's tank, giggling uncontrollably when he wrapped his little tentacles around her finger to cling on to her. Marya tipped her head to look at Natasha, raising a brow at her in amusement. It was no surprise how well Natasha and Svob got together; they were inseparable! Even though Natasha did not understand a word or the grizzle of bubbles he would release, she loved him all the same and would converse with him about all sorts of things. Presently, she spoke about what they would do when they arrived at the docks of Malacca and Marya listened. 

"The culture is going to be so different but I wonder what sort of clothes they wear. I hear they wear silk a lot but it's extremely expensive!" Natasha exclaimed as she stroked Svob's head. "The people must be rich to be able to afford silk!"

"They trade, Natasha... And they wear more than just silk," Marya interjected. "Aren't you curious about anything else?"

"The languages! Mary told me that Malacca is diverse and they have about three languages!" Natasha gasped. "And the food! The pictures I saw were very appetizing."

"The landmarks sound interesting too," Marya hummed as she ran a hand through her hair, short but neatly trimmed. 

"The people! I can't wait to meet them. It must be intriguing to them to see tourists from far away," Natasha added as she stood up, putting Svob's tank onto the mat where she previously sat. 

"We're tourists, not a display," Marya reminded Natasha and the girl visibly deflated. 

"Attention can be quite nice," Natasha confessed, giggling lightly. 

"Until they're flocking you," Marya clicked her tongue. "Attention isn't always the greatest."

Speaking of attention, Natasha's attention span had reached its quota for her eyes had gone somewhere else but Marya did not notice. The captain continued to elaborate on her dislike for attention and ironically was not paying much attention to her listener whose attention had been caught by something else in the water. With child-like glee, Natasha began to hop up and down, and her hands grasped the side of the ship to plant her in place. The hopping made Marya stop babbling and she stared at her goddaughter with a scowl. 

"Natalya, are you even listening to me?"

"Marya! It's a mermaid! I saw a mermaid!" Natasha squealed, still hopping joyfully. 

Marya shook her head in disbelief and scoffed dismissively. "It's probably a dolphin or a manatee, my dear. There are no mermaids here."

Natasha stopped hopping and she lifted a hand to wave in the air. "She's waving at me! A mermaid is waving at me! Oh, Marya, she's gorgeous! It's a real mermaid!"

Marya insouciantly stood up, abandoning her relaxation to entertain Natasha's enjoyment. With the mermaid scale around her neck, Marya could feel a presence in the water and a rapid heartbeat pounding at the back of her head. It could be a curious animal or another mermaid species of the Asian region that she never knew existed. Peering over the side, her heart skipped a beat. That unmistakable smile. How she missed the sight of those beautiful pink lips. The way it curved more to one side whenever she flashed an adorable crooked smile. The mischievous glint in her glowing chocolate eyes that crinkled as her smile grew. Her curls were still untameable it seemed, even when it was wet, it flourished in an stunning mess tangled with a bit of kelp and stray petals of some aquatic flowers. 

"Isn't she beautiful, Marya?!" Natasha squeaked. 

Marya rested her hand over her beating heart. "She really is beautiful..."

Hélène was waving at Natasha eagerly, a deep sultry chuckle sounding from her lips. Then her eyes moved to Marya and her hand fell to her side. The smile faded away and Marya could see the tears in her eyes as they studied her figure. It had been too long. Hélène never forgot the way Marya looked. The way her grey eyes pierced into her darker pair and those red lips that only smile for her goddaughters, her crew and for her. Seeing her again, it was stunning how much more beautiful the captain was. She was the same woman she had fallen in love with all those months ago, with the same shoulder-lengthed hairstyle and white crisp shirt paired with the same black pants. But Hélène found her more elegant and radiant than ever. The smile returned, wider than before and she saluted playfully. 

"Permission to come aboard, captain?" 

"Permission granted, mermaid." Turning away, she whistled loudly. "Someone get a ladder!" 

A rope ladder was fetched and it was thrown over the side of the ship for Hélène to come aboard the Moscow. Natasha cheered, pumping her fists in the air as she scurried to the ladder to greet the majestic creature. The crew had abandoned their games and the gramophone to reunite with their old friend, all of them calling her name and racing to grab a hug. Natasha had the privilege of receiving the first hug and she did not mind her front getting drenched despite Hélène's numerous warnings that she was soaked. It would have taken ten men to pry Natasha off of Hélène judging by how tightly Natasha was gripping the mermaid but she pulled away to study her from head to toe while everyone else attacked Hélène with their own embraces. 

"Hello!! I'm Natasha!" the girl introduced, trembling in glee. 

"I know who you are, ma chere. I've heard so much about you!" Hélène purred as she poked Natasha's nose gently. 

"You know who I am?" Natasha gasped, squishing her own cheeks with her palms. "You must be the one Marya told us about! Hélène, right?"

"In the flesh," Hélène giggled. 

"Marya! It's Hélène!" Natasha announced to her godmother who was had not moved from where she stood. 

Marya did not know if she could believe that it was actually Hélène who had set foot on her deck. It was no mirage if the others believed that it was truly her but her body had ceased to function. Hélène made the first move, walking up to Marya who too started to walk towards the approaching mermaid to close the distance. Impatiently, their footsteps quickened, and they jogged until they crashed into each other's arms. Marya dug her face into Hélène's curls, torn between sobbing and laughing as she held her mermaid close to her. Her arm curved around Hélène's back like a strap, and she nuzzled into her hair, breathing in her scent. Hélène, who stood slightly shorter than Marya who wore heeled boots, huddled against the taller woman, her face pressed into her shoulder as her hands grasped her blouse greedily for her warmth and to press their bodies flush together. 

"You're here..." Marya breathed. "I thought..."

"I spent weeks looking for you, captain... I never stopped," Hélène blurted as she clawed at Marya's blouse. 

"What about the wedding?" Marya mumbled and she looked at Hélène who was grinning up at her. 

"Pierre called it off. He did it for me so that I could pursue my happiness... And my love. And I've found them. I've found them here," Hélène cried. 

Marya silenced her with a passionate and loving kiss, moving her hand to hold the back of her lover's head. Tears spilled down Hélène's cheeks and she cupped Marya's cheeks within her palms, fingers tracing her cheekbones. She missed every curve of the woman, from the arm that was hooked around her in a secured hold to the feeling of her soft lips against hers. They pulled apart for air but their lips were still against each other's, foreheads connected and their noses touched. Marya laughed at Hélène's conflicted exhales of air, a fusion of laughter and sobbing that could have came from Marya had the woman not been so absored in the overwhelming joy that flooded her. 

"I love you, mermaid," Marya whispered against Hélène's lips, dipping for another kiss that was returned immediately. 

"I love you too, captain. I'm never leaving you again," Hélène swore. 

Natasha, who had been spectating, squealed and took off running to the stairs that led below deck, screaming. "Sonya! You have to meet Marya's girlfriend! She's a mermaid!"

"Hélène's back?!" Mary exclaimed, guessing precisely who had returned just by the word 'girlfriend', and Marya rolled her eyes with a grin. 

Hélène closed her eyes and twirled a finger in Marya's hair. "It seems that I'm your girlfriend now~"

"She's not wrong..." Hélène's eyes flew open and Marya reframed her sentence. "That is if you want to be mine."

Hélène let out a Natasha-like squeak. "I'm all yours, captain!"

Before they could seal their lips in another kiss, they could hear a stampede of footsteps that came from only three women: Mary, Sonya and Natasha. Natasha had seized Sonya's wrist, and Sonya with Mary's arm, and they were dragged onto the deck in a train that was ushered by Natasha. Hélène and Marya paid no mind to the chaos that had ensued between the Rostova cousins and Mary, too focused on showering and pampering the other with affection in compensation of those empty months of coldness and dread. Hand in hand, Marya spared the girls a glance then looked at Hélène, her eyes mustering every ounce of love she had for the mermaid. 

"Are you ready to meet the family?"

"I sure am~ And now, where's our son?"

"In his tank. I've been pampering him and my goodness, he's one spoilt octopus."

"Aw~ You're a wonderful mother."

After one last kiss, Marya guided Hélène to meet her goddaughters properly. Their adventures have not come to an end. They have only just begun. Beyond them lay more stories they were about to write together, more secrets and mysteries to unfold and more storms to brave. But for now, fate was kind enough to allow them a moment, a precious reunion that they would never forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here ends this story but like I said, their adventures have not ended yet. :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this fic! ♥ you're all amazing people and it brings me joy to know that you guys decided to stick around for the entire journey. I love you all! 
> 
> Find me on @irreplaceable-ecstacyy on tumblr or @lil.songbird on Instagram


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